1. Hesiod, Shield, 160, 165, 189, 207-215, 218, 232-233, 244, 273, 314-317, 140 (8th cent. BCE - 7th cent. BCE)
| 140. broke it with a blow or crushed it. And a wonder it was to see; for its whole orb shimmered with enamel and white ivory and electrum, and it glowed with shining gold; and there were zones of cyanus note resp= |
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2. Homer, Iliad, 3.125-3.129, 5.738-5.744, 18.468-18.608, 19.13-19.19 (8th cent. BCE - 7th cent. BCE)
| 3.125. /She found Helen in the hall, where she was weaving a great purple web of double fold, and thereon was broidering many battles of the horse-taming Trojans and the brazen-coated Achaeans, that for her sake they had endured at the hands of Ares. Close to her side then came Iris, swift of foot, and spake to her, saying: 3.126. /She found Helen in the hall, where she was weaving a great purple web of double fold, and thereon was broidering many battles of the horse-taming Trojans and the brazen-coated Achaeans, that for her sake they had endured at the hands of Ares. Close to her side then came Iris, swift of foot, and spake to her, saying: 3.127. /She found Helen in the hall, where she was weaving a great purple web of double fold, and thereon was broidering many battles of the horse-taming Trojans and the brazen-coated Achaeans, that for her sake they had endured at the hands of Ares. Close to her side then came Iris, swift of foot, and spake to her, saying: 3.128. /She found Helen in the hall, where she was weaving a great purple web of double fold, and thereon was broidering many battles of the horse-taming Trojans and the brazen-coated Achaeans, that for her sake they had endured at the hands of Ares. Close to her side then came Iris, swift of foot, and spake to her, saying: 3.129. /She found Helen in the hall, where she was weaving a great purple web of double fold, and thereon was broidering many battles of the horse-taming Trojans and the brazen-coated Achaeans, that for her sake they had endured at the hands of Ares. Close to her side then came Iris, swift of foot, and spake to her, saying: 5.738. /richly broidered, that herself had wrought and her hands had fashioned, and put on her the tunic of Zeus, the cloud-gatherer, and arrayed her in armour for tearful war. About her shoulders she flung the tasselled aegis, fraught with terror, all about which Rout is set as a crown 5.739. /richly broidered, that herself had wrought and her hands had fashioned, and put on her the tunic of Zeus, the cloud-gatherer, and arrayed her in armour for tearful war. About her shoulders she flung the tasselled aegis, fraught with terror, all about which Rout is set as a crown 5.740. /and therein is Strife, therein Valour, and therein Onset, that maketh the blood run cold, and therein is the head of the dread monster, the Gorgon, dread and awful, a portent of Zeus that beareth the aegis. And upon her head she set the helmet with two horns and with bosses four, wrought of gold, and fitted with the men-at-arms of an hundred cities. 5.741. /and therein is Strife, therein Valour, and therein Onset, that maketh the blood run cold, and therein is the head of the dread monster, the Gorgon, dread and awful, a portent of Zeus that beareth the aegis. And upon her head she set the helmet with two horns and with bosses four, wrought of gold, and fitted with the men-at-arms of an hundred cities. 5.742. /and therein is Strife, therein Valour, and therein Onset, that maketh the blood run cold, and therein is the head of the dread monster, the Gorgon, dread and awful, a portent of Zeus that beareth the aegis. And upon her head she set the helmet with two horns and with bosses four, wrought of gold, and fitted with the men-at-arms of an hundred cities. 5.743. /and therein is Strife, therein Valour, and therein Onset, that maketh the blood run cold, and therein is the head of the dread monster, the Gorgon, dread and awful, a portent of Zeus that beareth the aegis. And upon her head she set the helmet with two horns and with bosses four, wrought of gold, and fitted with the men-at-arms of an hundred cities. 5.744. /and therein is Strife, therein Valour, and therein Onset, that maketh the blood run cold, and therein is the head of the dread monster, the Gorgon, dread and awful, a portent of Zeus that beareth the aegis. And upon her head she set the helmet with two horns and with bosses four, wrought of gold, and fitted with the men-at-arms of an hundred cities. 18.468. /when dread fate cometh upon him, as verily goodly armour shall be his, such that in aftertime many a one among the multitude of men shall marvel, whosoever shall behold it. So saying he left her there and went unto his bellows, and he turned these toward the fire and bade them work. 18.469. /when dread fate cometh upon him, as verily goodly armour shall be his, such that in aftertime many a one among the multitude of men shall marvel, whosoever shall behold it. So saying he left her there and went unto his bellows, and he turned these toward the fire and bade them work. 18.470. /And the bellows, twenty in all, blew upon the melting-vats, sending forth a ready blast of every force, now to further him as he laboured hard, and again in whatsoever way Hephaestus might wish and his work go on. And on the fire he put stubborn bronze and tin 18.471. /And the bellows, twenty in all, blew upon the melting-vats, sending forth a ready blast of every force, now to further him as he laboured hard, and again in whatsoever way Hephaestus might wish and his work go on. And on the fire he put stubborn bronze and tin 18.472. /And the bellows, twenty in all, blew upon the melting-vats, sending forth a ready blast of every force, now to further him as he laboured hard, and again in whatsoever way Hephaestus might wish and his work go on. And on the fire he put stubborn bronze and tin 18.473. /And the bellows, twenty in all, blew upon the melting-vats, sending forth a ready blast of every force, now to further him as he laboured hard, and again in whatsoever way Hephaestus might wish and his work go on. And on the fire he put stubborn bronze and tin 18.474. /And the bellows, twenty in all, blew upon the melting-vats, sending forth a ready blast of every force, now to further him as he laboured hard, and again in whatsoever way Hephaestus might wish and his work go on. And on the fire he put stubborn bronze and tin 18.475. /and precious gold and silver; and thereafter he set on the anvil-block a great anvil, and took in one hand a massive hammer, and in the other took he the tongs.First fashioned he a shield, great and sturdy, adorning it cunningly in every part, and round about it set a bright rim 18.476. /and precious gold and silver; and thereafter he set on the anvil-block a great anvil, and took in one hand a massive hammer, and in the other took he the tongs.First fashioned he a shield, great and sturdy, adorning it cunningly in every part, and round about it set a bright rim 18.477. /and precious gold and silver; and thereafter he set on the anvil-block a great anvil, and took in one hand a massive hammer, and in the other took he the tongs.First fashioned he a shield, great and sturdy, adorning it cunningly in every part, and round about it set a bright rim 18.478. /and precious gold and silver; and thereafter he set on the anvil-block a great anvil, and took in one hand a massive hammer, and in the other took he the tongs.First fashioned he a shield, great and sturdy, adorning it cunningly in every part, and round about it set a bright rim 18.479. /and precious gold and silver; and thereafter he set on the anvil-block a great anvil, and took in one hand a massive hammer, and in the other took he the tongs.First fashioned he a shield, great and sturdy, adorning it cunningly in every part, and round about it set a bright rim 18.480. /threefold and glittering, and therefrom made fast a silver baldric. Five were the layers of the shield itself; and on it he wrought many curious devices with cunning skill.Therein he wrought the earth, therein the heavens therein the sea, and the unwearied sun, and the moon at the full 18.481. /threefold and glittering, and therefrom made fast a silver baldric. Five were the layers of the shield itself; and on it he wrought many curious devices with cunning skill.Therein he wrought the earth, therein the heavens therein the sea, and the unwearied sun, and the moon at the full 18.482. /threefold and glittering, and therefrom made fast a silver baldric. Five were the layers of the shield itself; and on it he wrought many curious devices with cunning skill.Therein he wrought the earth, therein the heavens therein the sea, and the unwearied sun, and the moon at the full 18.483. /threefold and glittering, and therefrom made fast a silver baldric. Five were the layers of the shield itself; and on it he wrought many curious devices with cunning skill.Therein he wrought the earth, therein the heavens therein the sea, and the unwearied sun, and the moon at the full 18.484. /threefold and glittering, and therefrom made fast a silver baldric. Five were the layers of the shield itself; and on it he wrought many curious devices with cunning skill.Therein he wrought the earth, therein the heavens therein the sea, and the unwearied sun, and the moon at the full 18.485. /and therein all the constellations wherewith heaven is crowned—the Pleiades, and the Hyades and the mighty Orion, and the Bear, that men call also the Wain, that circleth ever in her place, and watcheth Orion, and alone hath no part in the baths of Ocean. 18.486. /and therein all the constellations wherewith heaven is crowned—the Pleiades, and the Hyades and the mighty Orion, and the Bear, that men call also the Wain, that circleth ever in her place, and watcheth Orion, and alone hath no part in the baths of Ocean. 18.487. /and therein all the constellations wherewith heaven is crowned—the Pleiades, and the Hyades and the mighty Orion, and the Bear, that men call also the Wain, that circleth ever in her place, and watcheth Orion, and alone hath no part in the baths of Ocean. 18.488. /and therein all the constellations wherewith heaven is crowned—the Pleiades, and the Hyades and the mighty Orion, and the Bear, that men call also the Wain, that circleth ever in her place, and watcheth Orion, and alone hath no part in the baths of Ocean. 18.489. /and therein all the constellations wherewith heaven is crowned—the Pleiades, and the Hyades and the mighty Orion, and the Bear, that men call also the Wain, that circleth ever in her place, and watcheth Orion, and alone hath no part in the baths of Ocean. 18.490. /Therein fashioned he also two cities of mortal men exceeding fair. In the one there were marriages and feastings, and by the light of the blazing torches they were leading the brides from their bowers through the city, and loud rose the bridal song. And young men were whirling in the dance, and in their midst 18.491. /Therein fashioned he also two cities of mortal men exceeding fair. In the one there were marriages and feastings, and by the light of the blazing torches they were leading the brides from their bowers through the city, and loud rose the bridal song. And young men were whirling in the dance, and in their midst 18.492. /Therein fashioned he also two cities of mortal men exceeding fair. In the one there were marriages and feastings, and by the light of the blazing torches they were leading the brides from their bowers through the city, and loud rose the bridal song. And young men were whirling in the dance, and in their midst 18.493. /Therein fashioned he also two cities of mortal men exceeding fair. In the one there were marriages and feastings, and by the light of the blazing torches they were leading the brides from their bowers through the city, and loud rose the bridal song. And young men were whirling in the dance, and in their midst 18.494. /Therein fashioned he also two cities of mortal men exceeding fair. In the one there were marriages and feastings, and by the light of the blazing torches they were leading the brides from their bowers through the city, and loud rose the bridal song. And young men were whirling in the dance, and in their midst 18.495. /flutes and lyres sounded continually; and there the women stood each before her door and marvelled. But the folk were gathered in the place of assembly; for there a strife had arisen, and two men were striving about the blood-price of a man slain; the one avowed that he had paid all 18.496. /flutes and lyres sounded continually; and there the women stood each before her door and marvelled. But the folk were gathered in the place of assembly; for there a strife had arisen, and two men were striving about the blood-price of a man slain; the one avowed that he had paid all 18.497. /flutes and lyres sounded continually; and there the women stood each before her door and marvelled. But the folk were gathered in the place of assembly; for there a strife had arisen, and two men were striving about the blood-price of a man slain; the one avowed that he had paid all 18.498. /flutes and lyres sounded continually; and there the women stood each before her door and marvelled. But the folk were gathered in the place of assembly; for there a strife had arisen, and two men were striving about the blood-price of a man slain; the one avowed that he had paid all 18.499. /flutes and lyres sounded continually; and there the women stood each before her door and marvelled. But the folk were gathered in the place of assembly; for there a strife had arisen, and two men were striving about the blood-price of a man slain; the one avowed that he had paid all 18.500. /declaring his cause to the people, but the other refused to accept aught; and each was fain to win the issue on the word of a daysman. Moreover, the folk were cheering both, shewing favour to this side and to that. And heralds held back the folk, and the elders were sitting upon polished stones in the sacred circle 18.501. /declaring his cause to the people, but the other refused to accept aught; and each was fain to win the issue on the word of a daysman. Moreover, the folk were cheering both, shewing favour to this side and to that. And heralds held back the folk, and the elders were sitting upon polished stones in the sacred circle 18.502. /declaring his cause to the people, but the other refused to accept aught; and each was fain to win the issue on the word of a daysman. Moreover, the folk were cheering both, shewing favour to this side and to that. And heralds held back the folk, and the elders were sitting upon polished stones in the sacred circle 18.503. /declaring his cause to the people, but the other refused to accept aught; and each was fain to win the issue on the word of a daysman. Moreover, the folk were cheering both, shewing favour to this side and to that. And heralds held back the folk, and the elders were sitting upon polished stones in the sacred circle 18.504. /declaring his cause to the people, but the other refused to accept aught; and each was fain to win the issue on the word of a daysman. Moreover, the folk were cheering both, shewing favour to this side and to that. And heralds held back the folk, and the elders were sitting upon polished stones in the sacred circle 18.505. /holding in their hands the staves of the loud-voiced heralds. Therewith then would they spring up and give judgment, each in turn. And in the midst lay two talents of gold, to be given to him whoso among them should utter the most righteous judgment.But around the other city lay in leaguer two hosts of warriors 18.506. /holding in their hands the staves of the loud-voiced heralds. Therewith then would they spring up and give judgment, each in turn. And in the midst lay two talents of gold, to be given to him whoso among them should utter the most righteous judgment.But around the other city lay in leaguer two hosts of warriors 18.507. /holding in their hands the staves of the loud-voiced heralds. Therewith then would they spring up and give judgment, each in turn. And in the midst lay two talents of gold, to be given to him whoso among them should utter the most righteous judgment.But around the other city lay in leaguer two hosts of warriors 18.508. /holding in their hands the staves of the loud-voiced heralds. Therewith then would they spring up and give judgment, each in turn. And in the midst lay two talents of gold, to be given to him whoso among them should utter the most righteous judgment.But around the other city lay in leaguer two hosts of warriors 18.509. /holding in their hands the staves of the loud-voiced heralds. Therewith then would they spring up and give judgment, each in turn. And in the midst lay two talents of gold, to be given to him whoso among them should utter the most righteous judgment.But around the other city lay in leaguer two hosts of warriors 18.510. /gleaming in armour. And twofold plans found favour with them, either to lay waste the town or to divide in portions twain all the substance that the lovely city contained within. Howbeit the besieged would nowise hearken thereto, but were arming to meet the foe in an ambush. The wall were their dear wives and little children guarding 18.511. /gleaming in armour. And twofold plans found favour with them, either to lay waste the town or to divide in portions twain all the substance that the lovely city contained within. Howbeit the besieged would nowise hearken thereto, but were arming to meet the foe in an ambush. The wall were their dear wives and little children guarding 18.512. /gleaming in armour. And twofold plans found favour with them, either to lay waste the town or to divide in portions twain all the substance that the lovely city contained within. Howbeit the besieged would nowise hearken thereto, but were arming to meet the foe in an ambush. The wall were their dear wives and little children guarding 18.513. /gleaming in armour. And twofold plans found favour with them, either to lay waste the town or to divide in portions twain all the substance that the lovely city contained within. Howbeit the besieged would nowise hearken thereto, but were arming to meet the foe in an ambush. The wall were their dear wives and little children guarding 18.514. /gleaming in armour. And twofold plans found favour with them, either to lay waste the town or to divide in portions twain all the substance that the lovely city contained within. Howbeit the besieged would nowise hearken thereto, but were arming to meet the foe in an ambush. The wall were their dear wives and little children guarding 18.515. /as they stood thereon, and therewithal the men that were holden of old age; but the rest were faring forth, led of Ares and Pallas Athene, both fashioned in gold, and of gold was the raiment wherewith they were clad. Goodly were they and tall in their harness, as beseemeth gods, clear to view amid the rest, and the folk at their feet were smaller. 18.516. /as they stood thereon, and therewithal the men that were holden of old age; but the rest were faring forth, led of Ares and Pallas Athene, both fashioned in gold, and of gold was the raiment wherewith they were clad. Goodly were they and tall in their harness, as beseemeth gods, clear to view amid the rest, and the folk at their feet were smaller. 18.517. /as they stood thereon, and therewithal the men that were holden of old age; but the rest were faring forth, led of Ares and Pallas Athene, both fashioned in gold, and of gold was the raiment wherewith they were clad. Goodly were they and tall in their harness, as beseemeth gods, clear to view amid the rest, and the folk at their feet were smaller. 18.518. /as they stood thereon, and therewithal the men that were holden of old age; but the rest were faring forth, led of Ares and Pallas Athene, both fashioned in gold, and of gold was the raiment wherewith they were clad. Goodly were they and tall in their harness, as beseemeth gods, clear to view amid the rest, and the folk at their feet were smaller. 18.519. /as they stood thereon, and therewithal the men that were holden of old age; but the rest were faring forth, led of Ares and Pallas Athene, both fashioned in gold, and of gold was the raiment wherewith they were clad. Goodly were they and tall in their harness, as beseemeth gods, clear to view amid the rest, and the folk at their feet were smaller. 18.520. /But when they were come to the place where it seemed good unto them to set their ambush, in a river-bed where was a watering-place for all herds alike, there they sate them down, clothed about with flaming bronze. Thereafter were two scouts set by them apart from the host, waiting till they should have sight of the sheep and sleek cattle. 18.521. /But when they were come to the place where it seemed good unto them to set their ambush, in a river-bed where was a watering-place for all herds alike, there they sate them down, clothed about with flaming bronze. Thereafter were two scouts set by them apart from the host, waiting till they should have sight of the sheep and sleek cattle. 18.522. /But when they were come to the place where it seemed good unto them to set their ambush, in a river-bed where was a watering-place for all herds alike, there they sate them down, clothed about with flaming bronze. Thereafter were two scouts set by them apart from the host, waiting till they should have sight of the sheep and sleek cattle. 18.523. /But when they were come to the place where it seemed good unto them to set their ambush, in a river-bed where was a watering-place for all herds alike, there they sate them down, clothed about with flaming bronze. Thereafter were two scouts set by them apart from the host, waiting till they should have sight of the sheep and sleek cattle. 18.524. /But when they were come to the place where it seemed good unto them to set their ambush, in a river-bed where was a watering-place for all herds alike, there they sate them down, clothed about with flaming bronze. Thereafter were two scouts set by them apart from the host, waiting till they should have sight of the sheep and sleek cattle. 18.525. /And these came presently, and two herdsmen followed with them playing upon pipes; and of the guile wist they not at all. 18.526. /And these came presently, and two herdsmen followed with them playing upon pipes; and of the guile wist they not at all. 18.527. /And these came presently, and two herdsmen followed with them playing upon pipes; and of the guile wist they not at all. 18.528. /And these came presently, and two herdsmen followed with them playing upon pipes; and of the guile wist they not at all. 18.529. /And these came presently, and two herdsmen followed with them playing upon pipes; and of the guile wist they not at all. But the liers-in-wait, when they saw these coming on, rushed forth against them and speedily cut off the herds of cattle and fair flocks of white-fleeced sheep, and slew the herdsmen withal. 18.530. /But the besiegers, as they sat before the places of gathering and heard much tumult among the kine, mounted forthwith behind their high-stepping horses, and set out thitherward, and speedily came upon them. Then set they their battle in array and fought beside the river banks, and were ever smiting one another with bronze-tipped spears. 18.531. /But the besiegers, as they sat before the places of gathering and heard much tumult among the kine, mounted forthwith behind their high-stepping horses, and set out thitherward, and speedily came upon them. Then set they their battle in array and fought beside the river banks, and were ever smiting one another with bronze-tipped spears. 18.532. /But the besiegers, as they sat before the places of gathering and heard much tumult among the kine, mounted forthwith behind their high-stepping horses, and set out thitherward, and speedily came upon them. Then set they their battle in array and fought beside the river banks, and were ever smiting one another with bronze-tipped spears. 18.533. /But the besiegers, as they sat before the places of gathering and heard much tumult among the kine, mounted forthwith behind their high-stepping horses, and set out thitherward, and speedily came upon them. Then set they their battle in array and fought beside the river banks, and were ever smiting one another with bronze-tipped spears. 18.534. /But the besiegers, as they sat before the places of gathering and heard much tumult among the kine, mounted forthwith behind their high-stepping horses, and set out thitherward, and speedily came upon them. Then set they their battle in array and fought beside the river banks, and were ever smiting one another with bronze-tipped spears. 18.535. /And amid them Strife and Tumult joined in the fray, and deadly Fate, grasping one man alive, fresh-wounded, another without a wound, and another she dragged dead through the mellay by the feet; and the raiment that she had about her shoulders was red with the blood of men. Even as living mortals joined they in the fray and fought; 18.536. /And amid them Strife and Tumult joined in the fray, and deadly Fate, grasping one man alive, fresh-wounded, another without a wound, and another she dragged dead through the mellay by the feet; and the raiment that she had about her shoulders was red with the blood of men. Even as living mortals joined they in the fray and fought; 18.537. /And amid them Strife and Tumult joined in the fray, and deadly Fate, grasping one man alive, fresh-wounded, another without a wound, and another she dragged dead through the mellay by the feet; and the raiment that she had about her shoulders was red with the blood of men. Even as living mortals joined they in the fray and fought; 18.538. /And amid them Strife and Tumult joined in the fray, and deadly Fate, grasping one man alive, fresh-wounded, another without a wound, and another she dragged dead through the mellay by the feet; and the raiment that she had about her shoulders was red with the blood of men. Even as living mortals joined they in the fray and fought; 18.539. /And amid them Strife and Tumult joined in the fray, and deadly Fate, grasping one man alive, fresh-wounded, another without a wound, and another she dragged dead through the mellay by the feet; and the raiment that she had about her shoulders was red with the blood of men. Even as living mortals joined they in the fray and fought; 18.540. /and they were haling away each the bodies of the others' slain.Therein he set also soft fallow-land, rich tilth and wide, that was three times ploughed; and ploughers full many therein were wheeling their yokes and driving them this way and that. And whensoever after turning they came to the headland of the field 18.541. /and they were haling away each the bodies of the others' slain.Therein he set also soft fallow-land, rich tilth and wide, that was three times ploughed; and ploughers full many therein were wheeling their yokes and driving them this way and that. And whensoever after turning they came to the headland of the field 18.542. /and they were haling away each the bodies of the others' slain.Therein he set also soft fallow-land, rich tilth and wide, that was three times ploughed; and ploughers full many therein were wheeling their yokes and driving them this way and that. And whensoever after turning they came to the headland of the field 18.543. /and they were haling away each the bodies of the others' slain.Therein he set also soft fallow-land, rich tilth and wide, that was three times ploughed; and ploughers full many therein were wheeling their yokes and driving them this way and that. And whensoever after turning they came to the headland of the field 18.544. /and they were haling away each the bodies of the others' slain.Therein he set also soft fallow-land, rich tilth and wide, that was three times ploughed; and ploughers full many therein were wheeling their yokes and driving them this way and that. And whensoever after turning they came to the headland of the field 18.545. /then would a man come forth to each and give into his hands a cup of honey-sweet wine; and the ploughmen would turn them in the furrows, eager to reach the headland of the deep tilth. And the field grew black behind and seemed verily as it had been ploughed, for all that it was of gold; herein was the great marvel of the work. 18.546. /then would a man come forth to each and give into his hands a cup of honey-sweet wine; and the ploughmen would turn them in the furrows, eager to reach the headland of the deep tilth. And the field grew black behind and seemed verily as it had been ploughed, for all that it was of gold; herein was the great marvel of the work. 18.547. /then would a man come forth to each and give into his hands a cup of honey-sweet wine; and the ploughmen would turn them in the furrows, eager to reach the headland of the deep tilth. And the field grew black behind and seemed verily as it had been ploughed, for all that it was of gold; herein was the great marvel of the work. 18.548. /then would a man come forth to each and give into his hands a cup of honey-sweet wine; and the ploughmen would turn them in the furrows, eager to reach the headland of the deep tilth. And the field grew black behind and seemed verily as it had been ploughed, for all that it was of gold; herein was the great marvel of the work. 18.549. /then would a man come forth to each and give into his hands a cup of honey-sweet wine; and the ploughmen would turn them in the furrows, eager to reach the headland of the deep tilth. And the field grew black behind and seemed verily as it had been ploughed, for all that it was of gold; herein was the great marvel of the work. 18.550. /Therein he set also a king's demesne-land, wherein labourers were reaping, bearing sharp sickles in their hands. Some handfuls were falling in rows to the ground along the swathe, while others the binders of sheaves were binding with twisted ropes of straw. Three binders stood hard by them, while behind them 18.551. /Therein he set also a king's demesne-land, wherein labourers were reaping, bearing sharp sickles in their hands. Some handfuls were falling in rows to the ground along the swathe, while others the binders of sheaves were binding with twisted ropes of straw. Three binders stood hard by them, while behind them 18.552. /Therein he set also a king's demesne-land, wherein labourers were reaping, bearing sharp sickles in their hands. Some handfuls were falling in rows to the ground along the swathe, while others the binders of sheaves were binding with twisted ropes of straw. Three binders stood hard by them, while behind them 18.553. /Therein he set also a king's demesne-land, wherein labourers were reaping, bearing sharp sickles in their hands. Some handfuls were falling in rows to the ground along the swathe, while others the binders of sheaves were binding with twisted ropes of straw. Three binders stood hard by them, while behind them 18.554. /Therein he set also a king's demesne-land, wherein labourers were reaping, bearing sharp sickles in their hands. Some handfuls were falling in rows to the ground along the swathe, while others the binders of sheaves were binding with twisted ropes of straw. Three binders stood hard by them, while behind them 18.555. /boys would gather the handfuls, and bearing them in their arms would busily give them to the binders; and among them the king, staff in hand, was standing in silence at the swathe, joying in his heart. And heralds apart beneath an oak were making ready a feast, and were dressing a great ox they had slain for sacrifice; and the women 18.556. /boys would gather the handfuls, and bearing them in their arms would busily give them to the binders; and among them the king, staff in hand, was standing in silence at the swathe, joying in his heart. And heralds apart beneath an oak were making ready a feast, and were dressing a great ox they had slain for sacrifice; and the women 18.557. /boys would gather the handfuls, and bearing them in their arms would busily give them to the binders; and among them the king, staff in hand, was standing in silence at the swathe, joying in his heart. And heralds apart beneath an oak were making ready a feast, and were dressing a great ox they had slain for sacrifice; and the women 18.558. /boys would gather the handfuls, and bearing them in their arms would busily give them to the binders; and among them the king, staff in hand, was standing in silence at the swathe, joying in his heart. And heralds apart beneath an oak were making ready a feast, and were dressing a great ox they had slain for sacrifice; and the women 18.559. /boys would gather the handfuls, and bearing them in their arms would busily give them to the binders; and among them the king, staff in hand, was standing in silence at the swathe, joying in his heart. And heralds apart beneath an oak were making ready a feast, and were dressing a great ox they had slain for sacrifice; and the women 18.560. /sprinkled the flesh with white barley in abundance, for the workers' mid-day meal. 18.561. /sprinkled the flesh with white barley in abundance, for the workers' mid-day meal. 18.562. /sprinkled the flesh with white barley in abundance, for the workers' mid-day meal. 18.563. /sprinkled the flesh with white barley in abundance, for the workers' mid-day meal. 18.564. /sprinkled the flesh with white barley in abundance, for the workers' mid-day meal. Therein he set also a vineyard heavily laden with clusters, a vineyard fair and wrought of gold; black were the grapes, and the vines were set up throughout on silver poles. And around it he drave a trench of cyanus, and about that a fence of tin; 18.565. /and one single path led thereto, whereby the vintagers went and came, whensoever they gathered the vintage. And maidens and youths in childish glee were bearing the honey-sweet fruit in wicker baskets. And in their midst a boy made pleasant music with a clear-toned lyre 18.566. /and one single path led thereto, whereby the vintagers went and came, whensoever they gathered the vintage. And maidens and youths in childish glee were bearing the honey-sweet fruit in wicker baskets. And in their midst a boy made pleasant music with a clear-toned lyre 18.567. /and one single path led thereto, whereby the vintagers went and came, whensoever they gathered the vintage. And maidens and youths in childish glee were bearing the honey-sweet fruit in wicker baskets. And in their midst a boy made pleasant music with a clear-toned lyre 18.568. /and one single path led thereto, whereby the vintagers went and came, whensoever they gathered the vintage. And maidens and youths in childish glee were bearing the honey-sweet fruit in wicker baskets. And in their midst a boy made pleasant music with a clear-toned lyre 18.569. /and one single path led thereto, whereby the vintagers went and came, whensoever they gathered the vintage. And maidens and youths in childish glee were bearing the honey-sweet fruit in wicker baskets. And in their midst a boy made pleasant music with a clear-toned lyre 18.570. /and thereto sang sweetly the Linos-song with his delicate voice; and his fellows beating the earth in unison therewith followed on with bounding feet mid dance and shoutings.And therein he wrought a herd of straight-horned kine: the kine were fashioned of gold and tin 18.571. /and thereto sang sweetly the Linos-song with his delicate voice; and his fellows beating the earth in unison therewith followed on with bounding feet mid dance and shoutings.And therein he wrought a herd of straight-horned kine: the kine were fashioned of gold and tin 18.572. /and thereto sang sweetly the Linos-song with his delicate voice; and his fellows beating the earth in unison therewith followed on with bounding feet mid dance and shoutings.And therein he wrought a herd of straight-horned kine: the kine were fashioned of gold and tin 18.573. /and thereto sang sweetly the Linos-song with his delicate voice; and his fellows beating the earth in unison therewith followed on with bounding feet mid dance and shoutings.And therein he wrought a herd of straight-horned kine: the kine were fashioned of gold and tin 18.574. /and thereto sang sweetly the Linos-song with his delicate voice; and his fellows beating the earth in unison therewith followed on with bounding feet mid dance and shoutings.And therein he wrought a herd of straight-horned kine: the kine were fashioned of gold and tin 18.575. /and with lowing hasted they forth from byre to pasture beside the sounding river, beside the waving reed. And golden were the herdsmen that walked beside the kine, four in number, and nine dogs swift of foot followed after them. But two dread lions amid the foremost kine 18.576. /and with lowing hasted they forth from byre to pasture beside the sounding river, beside the waving reed. And golden were the herdsmen that walked beside the kine, four in number, and nine dogs swift of foot followed after them. But two dread lions amid the foremost kine 18.577. /and with lowing hasted they forth from byre to pasture beside the sounding river, beside the waving reed. And golden were the herdsmen that walked beside the kine, four in number, and nine dogs swift of foot followed after them. But two dread lions amid the foremost kine 18.578. /and with lowing hasted they forth from byre to pasture beside the sounding river, beside the waving reed. And golden were the herdsmen that walked beside the kine, four in number, and nine dogs swift of foot followed after them. But two dread lions amid the foremost kine 18.579. /and with lowing hasted they forth from byre to pasture beside the sounding river, beside the waving reed. And golden were the herdsmen that walked beside the kine, four in number, and nine dogs swift of foot followed after them. But two dread lions amid the foremost kine 18.580. /were holding a loud-lowing bull, and he, bellowing mightily, was haled of them, while after him pursued the dogs and young men. The lions twain had rent the hide of the great bull, and were devouring the inward parts and the black blood, while the herdsmen vainly sought to fright them, tarring on the swift hounds. 18.581. /were holding a loud-lowing bull, and he, bellowing mightily, was haled of them, while after him pursued the dogs and young men. The lions twain had rent the hide of the great bull, and were devouring the inward parts and the black blood, while the herdsmen vainly sought to fright them, tarring on the swift hounds. 18.582. /were holding a loud-lowing bull, and he, bellowing mightily, was haled of them, while after him pursued the dogs and young men. The lions twain had rent the hide of the great bull, and were devouring the inward parts and the black blood, while the herdsmen vainly sought to fright them, tarring on the swift hounds. 18.583. /were holding a loud-lowing bull, and he, bellowing mightily, was haled of them, while after him pursued the dogs and young men. The lions twain had rent the hide of the great bull, and were devouring the inward parts and the black blood, while the herdsmen vainly sought to fright them, tarring on the swift hounds. 18.584. /were holding a loud-lowing bull, and he, bellowing mightily, was haled of them, while after him pursued the dogs and young men. The lions twain had rent the hide of the great bull, and were devouring the inward parts and the black blood, while the herdsmen vainly sought to fright them, tarring on the swift hounds. 18.585. /Howbeit these shrank from fastening on the lions, but stood hard by and barked and sprang aside.Therein also the famed god of the two strong arms wrought a pasture in a fair dell, a great pasture of white-fleeced sheep, and folds, and roofed huts, and pens. 18.586. /Howbeit these shrank from fastening on the lions, but stood hard by and barked and sprang aside.Therein also the famed god of the two strong arms wrought a pasture in a fair dell, a great pasture of white-fleeced sheep, and folds, and roofed huts, and pens. 18.587. /Howbeit these shrank from fastening on the lions, but stood hard by and barked and sprang aside.Therein also the famed god of the two strong arms wrought a pasture in a fair dell, a great pasture of white-fleeced sheep, and folds, and roofed huts, and pens. 18.588. /Howbeit these shrank from fastening on the lions, but stood hard by and barked and sprang aside.Therein also the famed god of the two strong arms wrought a pasture in a fair dell, a great pasture of white-fleeced sheep, and folds, and roofed huts, and pens. 18.589. /Howbeit these shrank from fastening on the lions, but stood hard by and barked and sprang aside.Therein also the famed god of the two strong arms wrought a pasture in a fair dell, a great pasture of white-fleeced sheep, and folds, and roofed huts, and pens. 18.590. /Therein furthermore the famed god of the two strong arms cunningly wrought a dancing-floor like unto that which in wide Cnosus Daedalus fashioned of old for fair-tressed Ariadne. There were youths dancing and maidens of the price of many cattle, holding their hands upon the wrists one of the other. 18.591. /Therein furthermore the famed god of the two strong arms cunningly wrought a dancing-floor like unto that which in wide Cnosus Daedalus fashioned of old for fair-tressed Ariadne. There were youths dancing and maidens of the price of many cattle, holding their hands upon the wrists one of the other. 18.592. /Therein furthermore the famed god of the two strong arms cunningly wrought a dancing-floor like unto that which in wide Cnosus Daedalus fashioned of old for fair-tressed Ariadne. There were youths dancing and maidens of the price of many cattle, holding their hands upon the wrists one of the other. 18.593. /Therein furthermore the famed god of the two strong arms cunningly wrought a dancing-floor like unto that which in wide Cnosus Daedalus fashioned of old for fair-tressed Ariadne. There were youths dancing and maidens of the price of many cattle, holding their hands upon the wrists one of the other. 18.594. /Therein furthermore the famed god of the two strong arms cunningly wrought a dancing-floor like unto that which in wide Cnosus Daedalus fashioned of old for fair-tressed Ariadne. There were youths dancing and maidens of the price of many cattle, holding their hands upon the wrists one of the other. 18.595. /of these the maidens were clad in fine linen, while the youths wore well-woven tunics faintly glistening with oil; and the maidens had fair chaplets, and the youths had daggers of gold hanging from silver baldrics. Now would they run round with cunning feet 18.596. /of these the maidens were clad in fine linen, while the youths wore well-woven tunics faintly glistening with oil; and the maidens had fair chaplets, and the youths had daggers of gold hanging from silver baldrics. Now would they run round with cunning feet 18.597. /of these the maidens were clad in fine linen, while the youths wore well-woven tunics faintly glistening with oil; and the maidens had fair chaplets, and the youths had daggers of gold hanging from silver baldrics. Now would they run round with cunning feet 18.598. /of these the maidens were clad in fine linen, while the youths wore well-woven tunics faintly glistening with oil; and the maidens had fair chaplets, and the youths had daggers of gold hanging from silver baldrics. Now would they run round with cunning feet 18.599. /of these the maidens were clad in fine linen, while the youths wore well-woven tunics faintly glistening with oil; and the maidens had fair chaplets, and the youths had daggers of gold hanging from silver baldrics. Now would they run round with cunning feet 18.600. /exceeding lightly, as when a potter sitteth by his wheel that is fitted between his hands and maketh trial of it whether it will run; and now again would they run in rows toward each other. And a great company stood around the lovely dance, taking joy therein; 18.601. /exceeding lightly, as when a potter sitteth by his wheel that is fitted between his hands and maketh trial of it whether it will run; and now again would they run in rows toward each other. And a great company stood around the lovely dance, taking joy therein; 18.602. /exceeding lightly, as when a potter sitteth by his wheel that is fitted between his hands and maketh trial of it whether it will run; and now again would they run in rows toward each other. And a great company stood around the lovely dance, taking joy therein; 18.603. /exceeding lightly, as when a potter sitteth by his wheel that is fitted between his hands and maketh trial of it whether it will run; and now again would they run in rows toward each other. And a great company stood around the lovely dance, taking joy therein; 18.604. /exceeding lightly, as when a potter sitteth by his wheel that is fitted between his hands and maketh trial of it whether it will run; and now again would they run in rows toward each other. And a great company stood around the lovely dance, taking joy therein; 18.605. /and two tumblers whirled up and down through the midst of them as leaders in the dance.Therein he set also the great might of the river Oceanus, around the uttermost rim of the strongly-wrought shield.But when he had wrought the shield, great and sturdy 18.606. /and two tumblers whirled up and down through the midst of them as leaders in the dance.Therein he set also the great might of the river Oceanus, around the uttermost rim of the strongly-wrought shield.But when he had wrought the shield, great and sturdy 18.607. /and two tumblers whirled up and down through the midst of them as leaders in the dance.Therein he set also the great might of the river Oceanus, around the uttermost rim of the strongly-wrought shield.But when he had wrought the shield, great and sturdy 18.608. /and two tumblers whirled up and down through the midst of them as leaders in the dance.Therein he set also the great might of the river Oceanus, around the uttermost rim of the strongly-wrought shield.But when he had wrought the shield, great and sturdy 19.13. /But receive thou from Hephaestus glorious armour, exceeding fair, such as never yet a man bare upon his shoulders. So saying the goddess set down the arms in front of Achilles, and they all rang aloud in their splendour. Then trembling seized all the Myrmidons 19.14. /But receive thou from Hephaestus glorious armour, exceeding fair, such as never yet a man bare upon his shoulders. So saying the goddess set down the arms in front of Achilles, and they all rang aloud in their splendour. Then trembling seized all the Myrmidons 19.15. /neither dared any man to look thereon, but they shrank in fear. Howbeit, when Achilles saw the arms, then came wrath upon him yet the more, and his eyes blazed forth in terrible wise from beneath their lids, as it had been flame; and he was glad as he held in his arms the glorious gifts of the god. But when in his soul he had taken delight in gazing on the glory of them 19.16. /neither dared any man to look thereon, but they shrank in fear. Howbeit, when Achilles saw the arms, then came wrath upon him yet the more, and his eyes blazed forth in terrible wise from beneath their lids, as it had been flame; and he was glad as he held in his arms the glorious gifts of the god. But when in his soul he had taken delight in gazing on the glory of them 19.17. /neither dared any man to look thereon, but they shrank in fear. Howbeit, when Achilles saw the arms, then came wrath upon him yet the more, and his eyes blazed forth in terrible wise from beneath their lids, as it had been flame; and he was glad as he held in his arms the glorious gifts of the god. But when in his soul he had taken delight in gazing on the glory of them 19.18. /neither dared any man to look thereon, but they shrank in fear. Howbeit, when Achilles saw the arms, then came wrath upon him yet the more, and his eyes blazed forth in terrible wise from beneath their lids, as it had been flame; and he was glad as he held in his arms the glorious gifts of the god. But when in his soul he had taken delight in gazing on the glory of them 19.19. /neither dared any man to look thereon, but they shrank in fear. Howbeit, when Achilles saw the arms, then came wrath upon him yet the more, and his eyes blazed forth in terrible wise from beneath their lids, as it had been flame; and he was glad as he held in his arms the glorious gifts of the god. But when in his soul he had taken delight in gazing on the glory of them |
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3. Homer, Odyssey, 2.93-2.110, 8.62, 8.65-8.66, 8.73-8.82, 8.266-8.366, 8.502, 8.517, 8.521-8.530, 11.609-11.611, 12.159, 12.168-12.169, 19.138-19.155, 19.226-19.231, 24.129-24.148, 24.150 (8th cent. BCE - 7th cent. BCE)
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4. Theocritus, Idylls, 15 (4th cent. BCE - 3rd cent. BCE)
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5. Apollonius of Rhodes, Argonautica, 1.496-1.511, 1.721-1.767, 2.703-2.710, 4.891, 4.912-4.919 (3rd cent. BCE - 3rd cent. BCE)
| 1.496. ἤειδεν δʼ ὡς γαῖα καὶ οὐρανὸς ἠδὲ θάλασσα 1.497. τὸ πρὶν ἐπʼ ἀλλήλοισι μιῇ συναρηρότα μορφῇ 1.498. νείκεος ἐξ ὀλοοῖο διέκριθεν ἀμφὶς ἕκαστα· 1.499. ἠδʼ ὡς ἔμπεδον αἰὲν ἐν αἰθέρι τέκμαρ ἔχουσιν 1.500. ἄστρα σεληναίη τε καὶ ἠελίοιο κέλευθοι· 1.501. οὔρεά θʼ ὡς ἀνέτειλε, καὶ ὡς ποταμοὶ κελάδοντες 1.502. αὐτῇσιν νύμφῃσι καὶ ἑρπετὰ πάντʼ ἐγένοντο. 1.503. ἤειδεν δʼ ὡς πρῶτον Ὀφίων Εὐρυνόμη τε 1.504. Ὠκεανὶς νιφόεντος ἔχον κράτος Οὐλύμποιο· 1.505. ὥς τε βίῃ καὶ χερσὶν ὁ μὲν Κρόνῳ εἴκαθε τιμῆς 1.506. ἡ δὲ Ῥέῃ, ἔπεσον δʼ ἐνὶ κύμασιν Ὠκεανοῖο· 1.507. οἱ δὲ τέως μακάρεσσι θεοῖς Τιτῆσιν ἄνασσον 1.508. ὄφρα Ζεὺς ἔτι κοῦρος, ἔτι φρεσὶ νήπια εἰδώς 1.509. Δικταῖον ναίεσκεν ὑπὸ σπέος· οἱ δέ μιν οὔπω 1.510. γηγενέες Κύκλωπες ἐκαρτύναντο κεραυνῷ 1.511. βροντῇ τε στεροπῇ τε· τὰ γὰρ Διὶ κῦδος ὀπάζει. 1.721. αὐτὰρ ὅγʼ ἀμφʼ ὤμοισι θεᾶς Τριτωνίδος ἔργον 1.722. δίπλακα πορφυρέην περονήσατο, τήν οἱ ὄπασσεν 1.723. Παλλάς, ὅτε πρῶτον δρυόχους ἐπεβάλλετο νηὸς 1.724. Ἀργοῦς, καὶ κανόνεσσι δάε ζυγὰ μετρήσασθαι. 1.725. τῆς μὲν ῥηίτερόν κεν ἐς ἠέλιον ἀνιόντα 1.726. ὄσσε βάλοις, ἢ κεῖνο μεταβλέψειας ἔρευθος. 1.727. δὴ γάρ τοι μέσση μὲν ἐρευθήεσσʼ ἐτέτυκτο 1.728. ἄκρα δὲ πορφυρέη πάντῃ πέλεν· ἐν δʼ ἄρʼ ἑκάστῳ 1.729. τέρματι δαίδαλα πολλὰ διακριδὸν εὖ ἐπέπαστο. 1.730. ἐν μὲν ἔσαν Κύκλωπες ἐπʼ ἀφθίτῳ ἥμενοι ἔργῳ 1.731. Ζηνὶ κεραυνὸν ἄνακτι πονεύμενοι· ὃς τόσον ἤδη 1.732. παμφαίνων ἐτέτυκτο, μιῆς δʼ ἔτι δεύετο μοῦνον 1.733. ἀκτῖνος, τὴν οἵδε σιδηρείῃς ἐλάασκον 1.734. σφύρῃσιν, μαλεροῖο πυρὸς ζείουσαν ἀυτμήν. 1.735. ἐν δʼ ἔσαν Ἀντιόπης Ἀσωπίδος υἱέε δοιώ 1.736. Ἀμφίων καὶ Ζῆθος· ἀπύργωτος δʼ ἔτι Θήβη 1.737. κεῖτο πέλας, τῆς οἵγε νέον βάλλοντο δομαίους 1.738. ἱέμενοι. Ζῆθος μὲν ἐπωμαδὸν ἠέρταζεν 1.739. οὔρεος ἠλιβάτοιο κάρη, μογέοντι ἐοικώς· 1.740. Ἀμφίων δʼ ἐπί οἱ χρυσέῃ φόρμιγγι λιγαίνων 1.741. ἤιε, δὶς τόσση δὲ μετʼ ἴχνια νίσσετο πέτρη 1.742. ἑξείης δʼ ἤσκητο βαθυπλόκαμος Κυθέρεια 1.743. Ἄρεος ὀχμάζουσα θοὸν σάκος· ἐκ δέ οἱ ὤμου 1.744. πῆχυν ἔπι σκαιὸν ξυνοχὴ κεχάλαστο χιτῶνος 1.745. νέρθεν ὑπὲκ μαζοῖο· τὸ δʼ ἀντίον ἀτρεκὲς αὔτως 1.746. χαλκείῃ δείκηλον ἐν ἀσπίδι φαίνετʼ ἰδέσθαι. 1.747. ἐν δὲ βοῶν ἔσκεν λάσιος νομός· ἀμφὶ δὲ βουσὶν 1.748. Τηλεβόαι μάρναντο καὶ υἱέες Ἠλεκτρύωνος· 1.749. οἱ μὲν ἀμυνόμενοι, ἀτὰρ οἵγʼ ἐθέλοντες ἀμέρσαι 1.750. ληισταὶ Τάφιοι· τῶν δʼ αἵματι δεύετο λειμὼν 1.751. ἑρσήεις, πολέες δʼ ὀλίγους βιόωντο νομῆας. 1.752. ἐν δὲ δύω δίφροι πεπονήατο δηριόωντες. 1.753. καὶ τὸν μὲν προπάροιθε Πέλοψ ἴθυνε, τινάσσων 1.754. ἡνία, σὺν δέ οἱ ἔσκε παραιβάτις Ἱπποδάμεια· 1.755. τὸν δὲ μεταδρομάδην ἐπὶ Μυρτίλος ἤλασεν ἵππους 1.756. σὺν τῷ δʼ Οἰνόμαος προτενὲς δόρυ χειρὶ μεμαρπὼς 1.757. ἄξονος ἐν πλήμνῃσι παρακλιδὸν ἀγνυμένοιο 1.758. πῖπτεν, ἐπεσσύμενος Πελοπήια νῶτα δαΐξαι. 1.759. ἐν καὶ Ἀπόλλων Φοῖβος ὀιστεύων ἐτέτυκτο 1.760. βούπαις οὔπω πολλός, ἑὴν ἐρύοντα καλύπτρης 1.761. μητέρα θαρσαλέως Τιτυὸν μέγαν, ὅν ῥʼ ἔτεκέν γε 1.762. δῖʼ Ἐλάρη, θρέψεν δὲ καὶ ἂψ ἐλοχεύσατο Γαῖα. 1.763. ἐν καὶ Φρίξος ἔην Μινυήιος ὡς ἐτεόν περ 1.764. εἰσαΐων κριοῦ, ὁ δʼ ἄρʼ ἐξενέποντι ἐοικώς. 1.765. κείνους κʼ εἰσορόων ἀκέοις, ψεύδοιό τε θυμόν 1.766. ἐλπόμενος πυκινήν τινʼ ἀπὸ σφείων ἐσακοῦσαι 1.767. βάξιν, ὃ καὶ δηρόν περ ἐπʼ ἐλπίδι θηήσαιο. 2.703. μελπόμενοι· σὺν δέ σφιν ἐὺς πάις Οἰάγροιο 2.704. Βιστονίῃ φόρμιγγι λιγείης ἦρχεν ἀοιδῆς· 2.705. ὥς ποτε πετραίῃ ὑπὸ δειράδι Παρνησσοῖο 2.706. Δελφύνην τόξοισι πελώριον ἐξενάριξεν 2.707. κοῦρος ἐὼν ἔτι γυμνός, ἔτι πλοκάμοισι γεγηθώς. 2.708. ἱλήκοις· αἰεί τοι, ἄναξ, ἄτμητοι ἔθειραι 2.709. αἰὲν ἀδήλητοι· τὼς γὰρ θέμις. οἰόθι δʼ αὐτὴ 2.710. Λητὼ Κοιογένεια φίλαις ἐν χερσὶν ἀφάσσει. 4.891. νῆα δʼ ἐυκραὴς ἄνεμος φέρεν. αἶψα δὲ νῆσον 4.912. ἀλλὰ καὶ ὧς Τελέοντος ἐὺς πάις, οἶος ἑταίρων 4.913. προφθάμενος, ξεστοῖο κατὰ ζυγοῦ ἔνθορε πόντῳ 4.914. Βούτης, Σειρήνων λιγυρῇ ὀπὶ θυμὸν ἰανθείς· 4.915. νῆχε δὲ πορφυρέοιο διʼ οἴδματος, ὄφρʼ ἐπιβαίη 4.916. σχέτλιος. ἦ τέ οἱ αἶψα καταυτόθι νόστον ἀπηύρων 4.917. ἀλλά μιν οἰκτείρασα θεὰ Ἔρυκος μεδέουσα 4.918. Κύπρις ἔτʼ ἐν δίναις ἀνερέψατο, καί ῥʼ ἐσάωσεν 4.919. πρόφρων ἀντομένη Λιλυβηίδα ναιέμεν ἄκρην. | |
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6. Cicero, On Divination, 2.76 (2nd cent. BCE - 1st cent. BCE)
| 2.76. Sed de hoc loco plura in aliis, nunc hactenus. Externa enim auguria, quae sunt non tam artificiosa quam superstitiosa, videamus. Omnibus fere avibus utuntur, nos admodum paucis; alia illis sinistra sunt, alia nostris. Solebat ex me Deiotarus percontari nostri augurii disciplinam, ego ex illo sui. Di immortales! quantum differebat! ut quaedam essent etiam contraria. Atque ille iis semper utebatur, nos, nisi dum a populo auspicia accepta habemus, quam multum iis utimur? Bellicam rem administrari maiores nostri nisi auspicato noluerunt; quam multi anni sunt, cum bella a proconsulibus et a propraetoribus administrantur | 2.76. But we shall discuss the latter point at greater length in other discourses; let us dismiss it for the present.Now let us examine augury as practised among foreign nations, whose methods are not so artificial as they are superstitious. They employ almost all kinds of birds, we only a few; they regard some signs as favourable, we, others. Deiotarus used to question me a great deal about our system of augury, and I him about that of his country. Ye gods! how much they differed! So much that in some cases they were directly the reverse of each other. He employed auspices constantly, we never do except when the duty of doing so is imposed by a vote of the people. Our ancestors would not undertake any military enterprise without consulting the auspices; but now, for many years, our wars have been conducted by pro-consuls and pro-praetors, who do not have the right to take auspices. |
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7. Catullus, Poems, 64.48-64.265 (1st cent. BCE - 1st cent. BCE)
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8. Ovid, Ars Amatoria, 1.289-1.326 (1st cent. BCE - 1st cent. CE)
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9. Ovid, Metamorphoses, 6.557-6.560, 8.156 (1st cent. BCE - 1st cent. CE)
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10. Vergil, Aeneis, 1.441-1.496, 1.640-1.642, 1.740-1.746, 3.374-3.462, 5.250-5.257, 6.1-6.2, 6.9-6.12, 6.14-6.32, 6.34-6.155, 6.333-6.547, 6.645-6.647, 6.752-6.892, 7.177-7.191, 7.789-7.792, 8.306-8.369, 8.418-8.421, 8.424-8.438, 8.446, 8.608-8.731, 10.495-10.506, 11.429, 12.940-12.952 (1st cent. BCE - 1st cent. BCE)
| 1.441. her undulant vesture bared her marble knees. 1.442. She hailed them thus: “Ho, sirs, I pray you tell 1.443. if haply ye have noted, as ye came 1.444. one of my sisters in this wood astray? 1.445. She bore a quiver, and a lynx's hide 1.446. her spotted mantle was; perchance she roused 1.448. So Venus spoke, and Venus' son replied: 1.449. “No voice or vision of thy sister fair 1.450. has crossed my path, thou maid without a name! 1.451. Thy beauty seems not of terrestrial mould 1.452. nor is thy music mortal! Tell me, goddess 1.453. art thou bright Phoebus' sister? Or some nymph 1.454. the daughter of a god? Whate'er thou art 1.455. thy favor we implore, and potent aid 1.456. in our vast toil. Instruct us of what skies 1.457. or what world's end, our storm-swept lives have found! 1.458. Strange are these lands and people where we rove 1.459. compelled by wind and wave. Lo, this right hand 1.461. Then Venus: “Nay, I boast not to receive 1.462. honors divine. We Tyrian virgins oft 1.463. bear bow and quiver, and our ankles white 1.464. lace up in purple buskin. Yonder lies 1.465. the Punic power, where Tyrian masters hold 1.466. Agenor's town; but on its borders dwell 1.467. the Libyans, by battles unsubdued. 1.468. Upon the throne is Dido, exiled there 1.469. from Tyre, to flee th' unnatural enmity 1.470. of her own brother. 'T was an ancient wrong; 1.471. too Iong the dark and tangled tale would be; 1.472. I trace the larger outline of her story: 1.473. Sichreus was her spouse, whose acres broad 1.474. no Tyrian lord could match, and he was-blessed 1.475. by his ill-fated lady's fondest love 1.476. whose father gave him her first virgin bloom 1.477. in youthful marriage. But the kingly power 1.478. among the Tyrians to her brother came 1.479. Pygmalion, none deeper dyed in crime 1.480. in all that land. Betwixt these twain there rose 1.481. a deadly hatred,—and the impious wretch 1.482. blinded by greed, and reckless utterly 1.483. of his fond sister's joy, did murder foul 1.484. upon defenceless and unarmed Sichaeus 1.485. and at the very altar hewed him down. 1.486. Long did he hide the deed, and guilefully 1.487. deceived with false hopes, and empty words 1.488. her grief and stricken love. But as she slept 1.489. her husband's tombless ghost before her came 1.490. with face all wondrous pale, and he laid bare 1.491. his heart with dagger pierced, disclosing so 1.492. the blood-stained altar and the infamy 1.493. that darkened now their house. His counsel was 1.494. to fly, self-banished, from her ruined land 1.495. and for her journey's aid, he whispered where 1.496. his buried treasure lay, a weight unknown 1.640. Aeneas paused, and, weeping, thus began: 1.641. “Alas, Achates, what far region now 1.642. what land in all the world knows not our pain? 1.740. uch haughty violence fits not the souls 1.741. of vanquished men. We journey to a land 1.742. named, in Greek syllables, Hesperia : 1.743. a storied realm, made mighty by great wars 1.744. and wealth of fruitful land; in former days 1.745. Oenotrians had it, and their sons, 't is said 1.746. have called it Italy, a chieftain's name 3.374. Smile, Heaven, upon your faithful votaries.” 3.375. Then bade he launch away, the chain undo 3.376. et every cable free and spread all sail. 3.377. O'er the white waves we flew, and took our way 3.378. where'er the helmsman or the winds could guide. 3.379. Now forest-clad Zacynthus met our gaze 3.380. engirdled by the waves; Dulichium 3.381. ame, and Neritos, a rocky steep 3.382. uprose. We passed the cliffs of Ithaca 3.383. that called Laertes king, and flung our curse 3.384. on fierce Ulysses' hearth and native land. 3.385. nigh hoar Leucate's clouded crest we drew 3.386. where Phoebus' temple, feared by mariners 3.387. loomed o'er us; thitherward we steered and reached 3.388. the little port and town. Our weary fleet 3.390. So, safe at land, our hopeless peril past 3.391. we offered thanks to Jove, and kindled high 3.392. his altars with our feast and sacrifice; 3.393. then, gathering on Actium 's holy shore 3.394. made fair solemnities of pomp and game. 3.395. My youth, anointing their smooth, naked limbs 3.396. wrestled our wonted way. For glad were we 3.397. who past so many isles of Greece had sped 3.398. and 'scaped our circling foes. Now had the sun 3.399. rolled through the year's full circle, and the waves 3.400. were rough with icy winter's northern gales. 3.401. I hung for trophy on that temple door 3.402. a swelling shield of brass (which once was worn 3.403. by mighty Abas) graven with this line: 3.404. SPOIL OF AENEAS FROM TRIUMPHANT FOES. 3.405. Then from that haven I command them forth; 3.406. my good crews take the thwarts, smiting the sea 3.407. with rival strokes, and skim the level main. 3.408. Soon sank Phaeacia's wind-swept citadels 3.409. out of our view; we skirted the bold shores 3.410. of proud Epirus, in Chaonian land 3.412. Here wondrous tidings met us, that the son 3.413. of Priam, Helenus, held kingly sway 3.414. o'er many Argive cities, having wed 3.415. the Queen of Pyrrhus, great Achilles' son 3.416. and gained his throne; and that Andromache 3.417. once more was wife unto a kindred lord. 3.418. Amazement held me; all my bosom burned 3.419. to see the hero's face and hear this tale 3.420. of strange vicissitude. So up I climbed 3.421. leaving the haven, fleet, and friendly shore. 3.422. That self-same hour outside the city walls 3.423. within a grove where flowed the mimic stream 3.424. of a new Simois, Andromache 3.425. with offerings to the dead, and gifts of woe 3.426. poured forth libation, and invoked the shade 3.427. of Hector, at a tomb which her fond grief 3.428. had consecrated to perpetual tears 3.429. though void; a mound of fair green turf it stood 3.430. and near it rose twin altars to his name. 3.431. She saw me drawing near; our Trojan helms 3.432. met her bewildered eyes, and, terror-struck 3.433. at the portentous sight, she swooning fell 3.434. and lay cold, rigid, lifeless, till at last 3.435. carce finding voice, her lips addressed me thus : 3.436. “Have I true vision? Bringest thou the word 3.437. of truth, O goddess-born? Art still in flesh? 3.438. Or if sweet light be fled, my Hector, where?” 3.439. With flood of tears she spoke, and all the grove 3.440. reechoed to her cry. Scarce could I frame 3.441. brief answer to her passion, but replied 3.442. with broken voice and accents faltering: 3.443. “I live, 't is true. I lengthen out my days 3.444. through many a desperate strait. But O, believe 3.445. that what thine eyes behold is vision true. 3.446. Alas! what lot is thine, that wert unthroned 3.447. from such a husband's side? What after-fate 3.448. could give thee honor due? Andromache 3.450. With drooping brows and lowly voice she cried : 3.451. “O, happy only was that virgin blest 3.452. daughter of Priam, summoned forth to die 3.453. in sight of Ilium, on a foeman's tomb! 3.454. No casting of the lot her doom decreed 3.455. nor came she to her conqueror's couch a slave. 3.456. Myself from burning Ilium carried far 3.457. o'er seas and seas, endured the swollen pride 3.458. of that young scion of Achilles' race 3.459. and bore him as his slave a son. When he 3.460. ued for Hermione, of Leda's line 3.461. and nuptial-bond with Lacedaemon's Iords 3.462. I, the slave-wife, to Helenus was given 5.250. have joyful hope enkindled in each heart 5.251. to pass the laggard Gyas. In the lead 5.252. Sergestus' ship shoots forth; and to the rock 5.253. runs boldly nigh; but not his whole long keel 5.254. may pass his rival; the projecting beak 5.255. is followed fast by Pristis' emulous prow. 5.256. Then, striding straight amidships through his crew 5.257. thus Mnestheus urged them on: “O Hector's friends! 6.1. After such words and tears, he flung free rein 6.2. To the swift fleet, which sped along the wave 6.9. To find the seed-spark hidden in its veins; 6.10. One breaks the thick-branched trees, and steals away 6.11. The shelter where the woodland creatures bide; 6.12. One leads his mates where living waters flow. 6.14. The templed hill where lofty Phoebus reigns 6.15. And that far-off, inviolable shrine 6.16. of dread Sibylla, in stupendous cave 6.17. O'er whose deep soul the god of Delos breathes 6.18. Prophetic gifts, unfolding things to come. 6.20. Here Daedalus, the ancient story tells 6.21. Escaping Minos' power, and having made 6.22. Hazard of heaven on far-mounting wings 6.23. Floated to northward, a cold, trackless way 6.24. And lightly poised, at last, o'er Cumae 's towers. 6.25. Here first to earth come down, he gave to thee 6.26. His gear of wings, Apollo! and ordained 6.27. Vast temples to thy name and altars fair. 6.28. On huge bronze doors Androgeos' death was done; 6.29. And Cecrops' children paid their debt of woe 6.30. Where, seven and seven,—0 pitiable sight!— 6.31. The youths and maidens wait the annual doom 6.32. Drawn out by lot from yonder marble urn. 6.34. The bull was there; the passion, the strange guile; 6.35. And Queen Pasiphae's brute-human son 6.36. The Minotaur—of monstrous loves the sign. 6.37. Here was the toilsome, labyrinthine maze 6.38. Where, pitying love-lorn Ariadne's tears 6.39. The crafty Daedalus himself betrayed 6.40. The secret of his work; and gave the clue 6.41. To guide the path of Theseus through the gloom. 6.42. 0 Icarus, in such well-graven scene 6.43. How proud thy place should be! but grief forbade: 6.44. Twice in pure gold a father's fingers strove 6.45. To shape thy fall, and twice they strove in vain. 6.46. Aeneas long the various work would scan; 6.47. But now Achates comes, and by his side 6.48. Deiphobe, the Sibyl, Glaucus' child. 6.49. Thus to the prince she spoke : 6.50. “Is this thine hour 6.51. To stand and wonder? Rather go obtain 6.52. From young unbroken herd the bullocks seven 6.53. And seven yearling ewes, our wonted way.” 6.54. Thus to Aeneas; his attendants haste 6.55. To work her will; the priestess, calling loud 6.57. Deep in the face of that Euboean crag 6.58. A cavern vast is hollowed out amain 6.59. With hundred openings, a hundred mouths 6.60. Whence voices flow, the Sibyl's answering songs. 6.61. While at the door they paused, the virgin cried : 6.62. “Ask now thy doom!—the god! the god is nigh!” 6.63. So saying, from her face its color flew 6.64. Her twisted locks flowed free, the heaving breast 6.65. Swelled with her heart's wild blood; her stature seemed 6.66. Vaster, her accent more than mortal man 6.67. As all th' oncoming god around her breathed : 6.68. “On with thy vows and prayers, 0 Trojan, on! 6.69. For only unto prayer this haunted cave 6.70. May its vast lips unclose.” She spake no more. 6.71. An icy shudder through the marrow ran 6.72. of the bold Trojans; while their sacred King 6.73. Poured from his inmost soul this plaint and prayer : 6.74. “Phoebus, who ever for the woes of Troy 6.75. Hadst pitying eyes! who gavest deadly aim 6.76. To Paris when his Dardan shaft he hurled 6.77. On great Achilles! Thou hast guided me 6.78. Through many an unknown water, where the seas 6.79. Break upon kingdoms vast, and to the tribes 6.80. of the remote Massyli, whose wild land 6.81. To Syrtes spreads. But now; because at last 6.82. I touch Hesperia's ever-fleeting bound 6.83. May Troy 's ill fate forsake me from this day! 6.84. 0 gods and goddesses, beneath whose wrath 6.85. Dardania's glory and great Ilium stood 6.86. Spare, for ye may, the remt of my race! 6.87. And thou, most holy prophetess, whose soul 6.88. Foreknows events to come, grant to my prayer 6.89. (Which asks no kingdom save what Fate decrees) 6.90. That I may stablish in the Latin land 6.91. My Trojans, my far-wandering household-gods 6.92. And storm-tossed deities of fallen Troy . 6.93. Then unto Phoebus and his sister pale 6.94. A temple all of marble shall be given 6.95. And festal days to Phoebus evermore. 6.96. Thee also in my realms a spacious shrine 6.97. Shall honor; thy dark books and holy songs 6.98. I there will keep, to be my people's law; 6.99. And thee, benigt Sibyl for all time 6.100. A company of chosen priests shall serve. 6.101. O, not on leaves, light leaves, inscribe thy songs! 6.102. Lest, playthings of each breeze, they fly afar 6.103. In swift confusion! Sing thyself, I pray.” 6.104. So ceased his voice; the virgin through the cave 6.105. Scarce bridled yet by Phoebus' hand divine 6.106. Ecstatic swept along, and vainly stove 6.107. To fing its potent master from her breast; 6.108. But he more strongly plied his rein and curb 6.109. Upon her frenzied lips, and soon subdued 6.110. Her spirit fierce, and swayed her at his will. 6.111. Free and self-moved the cavern's hundred adoors 6.112. Swung open wide, and uttered to the air 6.113. The oracles the virgin-priestess sung : 6.114. “Thy long sea-perils thou hast safely passed; 6.115. But heavier woes await thee on the land. 6.116. Truly thy Trojans to Lavinian shore 6.117. Shall come—vex not thyself thereon—but, oh! 6.118. Shall rue their coming thither! war, red war! 6.119. And Tiber stained with bloody foam I see. 6.120. Simois, Xanthus, and the Dorian horde 6.121. Thou shalt behold; a new Achilles now 6.122. In Latium breathes,—he, too, of goddess born; 6.123. And Juno, burden of the sons of Troy 6.124. Will vex them ever; while thyself shalt sue 6.125. In dire distress to many a town and tribe 6.126. Through Italy ; the cause of so much ill 6.127. Again shall be a hostess-queen, again 6.128. A marriage-chamber for an alien bride. 6.129. Oh! yield not to thy woe, but front it ever 6.130. And follow boldly whither Fortune calls. 6.131. Thy way of safety, as thou least couldst dream 6.133. Thus from her shrine Cumaea's prophetess 6.134. Chanted the dark decrees; the dreadful sound 6.135. Reverberated through the bellowing cave 6.136. Commingling truth with ecstasies obscure. 6.137. Apollo, as she raged, flung loosened rein 6.138. And thrust beneath her heart a quickening spur. 6.139. When first her madness ceased, and her wild lips 6.140. Were still at last, the hero thus began : 6.141. “No tribulations new, 0 Sibyl blest 6.142. Can now confront me; every future pain 6.143. I have foretasted; my prophetic soul 6.144. Endured each stroke of fate before it fell. 6.145. One boon I ask. If of th' infernal King 6.146. This be the portal where the murky wave 6.147. of swollen Acheron o'erflows its bound 6.148. Here let me enter and behold the face 6.149. of my loved sire. Thy hand may point the way; 6.150. Thy word will open wide yon holy doors. 6.151. My father through the flames and falling spears 6.152. Straight through the centre of our foes, I bore 6.153. Upon these shoulders. My long flight he shared 6.154. From sea to sea, and suffered at my side 6.155. The anger of rude waters and dark skies,— 6.333. An altar dark, and piled upon the flames 6.334. The ponderous entrails of the bulls, and poured 6.335. Free o'er the burning flesh the goodly oil. 6.336. Then lo! at dawn's dim, earliest beam began 6.337. Beneath their feet a groaning of the ground : 6.338. The wooded hill-tops shook, and, as it seemed 6.339. She-hounds of hell howled viewless through the shade 6.340. To hail their Queen. “Away, 0 souls profane! 6.341. Stand far away!” the priestess shrieked, “nor dare 6.342. Unto this grove come near! Aeneas, on! 6.343. Begin thy journey! Draw thy sheathed blade! 6.344. Now, all thy courage! now, th' unshaken soul!” 6.345. She spoke, and burst into the yawning cave 6.346. With frenzied step; he follows where she leads 6.348. Ye gods! who rule the spirits of the dead! 6.349. Ye voiceless shades and silent lands of night! 6.350. 0 Phlegethon! 0 Chaos! let my song 6.351. If it be lawful, in fit words declare 6.352. What I have heard; and by your help divine 6.353. Unfold what hidden things enshrouded lie 6.355. They walked exploring the unpeopled night 6.356. Through Pluto's vacuous realms, and regions void 6.357. As when one's path in dreary woodlands winds 6.358. Beneath a misty moon's deceiving ray 6.359. When Jove has mantled all his heaven in shade 6.360. And night seals up the beauty of the world. 6.361. In the first courts and entrances of Hell 6.362. Sorrows and vengeful Cares on couches lie : 6.363. There sad Old Age abides, Diseases pale 6.364. And Fear, and Hunger, temptress to all crime; 6.365. Want, base and vile, and, two dread shapes to see 6.366. Bondage and Death : then Sleep, Death's next of kin; 6.367. And dreams of guilty joy. Death-dealing War 6.368. Is ever at the doors, and hard thereby 6.369. The Furies' beds of steel, where wild-eyed Strife 6.371. There in the middle court a shadowy elm 6.372. Its ancient branches spreads, and in its leaves 6.373. Deluding visions ever haunt and cling. 6.374. Then come strange prodigies of bestial kind : 6.375. Centaurs are stabled there, and double shapes 6.376. Like Scylla, or the dragon Lerna bred 6.377. With hideous scream; Briareus clutching far 6.378. His hundred hands, Chimaera girt with flame 6.379. A crowd of Gorgons, Harpies of foul wing 6.380. And giant Geryon's triple-monstered shade. 6.381. Aeneas, shuddering with sudden fear 6.382. Drew sword and fronted them with naked steel; 6.383. And, save his sage conductress bade him know 6.384. These were but shapes and shadows sweeping by 6.386. Hence the way leads to that Tartarean stream 6.387. of Acheron, whose torrent fierce and foul 6.388. Disgorges in Cocytus all its sands. 6.389. A ferryman of gruesome guise keeps ward 6.390. Upon these waters,—Charon, foully garbed 6.391. With unkempt, thick gray beard upon his chin 6.392. And staring eyes of flame; a mantle coarse 6.393. All stained and knotted, from his shoulder falls 6.394. As with a pole he guides his craft, tends sail 6.395. And in the black boat ferries o'er his dead;— 6.396. Old, but a god's old age looks fresh and strong. 6.397. To those dim shores the multitude streams on— 6.398. Husbands and wives, and pale, unbreathing forms 6.399. of high-souled heroes, boys and virgins fair 6.400. And strong youth at whose graves fond parents mourned. 6.401. As numberless the throng as leaves that fall 6.402. When autumn's early frost is on the grove; 6.403. Or like vast flocks of birds by winter's chill 6.404. Sent flying o'er wide seas to lands of flowers. 6.405. All stood beseeching to begin their voyage 6.406. Across that river, and reached out pale hands 6.407. In passionate yearning for its distant shore. 6.408. But the grim boatman takes now these, now those 6.409. Or thrusts unpitying from the stream away. 6.410. Aeneas, moved to wonder and deep awe 6.411. Beheld the tumult; “Virgin seer!” he cried, . 6.412. “Why move the thronging ghosts toward yonder stream? 6.413. What seek they there? Or what election holds 6.414. That these unwilling linger, while their peers 6.415. Sweep forward yonder o'er the leaden waves?” 6.416. To him, in few, the aged Sibyl spoke : 6.417. “Son of Anchises, offspring of the gods 6.418. Yon are Cocytus and the Stygian stream 6.419. By whose dread power the gods themselves do fear 6.420. To take an oath in vain. Here far and wide 6.421. Thou seest the hapless throng that hath no grave. 6.422. That boatman Charon bears across the deep 6.423. Such as be sepulchred with holy care. 6.424. But over that loud flood and dreadful shore 6.425. No trav'ler may be borne, until in peace 6.426. His gathered ashes rest. A hundred years 6.427. Round this dark borderland some haunt and roam 6.428. Then win late passage o'er the longed-for wave.” 6.429. Aeneas lingered for a little space 6.430. Revolving in his soul with pitying prayer 6.431. Fate's partial way. But presently he sees 6.432. Leucaspis and the Lycian navy's lord 6.433. Orontes; both of melancholy brow 6.434. Both hapless and unhonored after death 6.435. Whom, while from Troy they crossed the wind-swept seas 6.437. There, too, the helmsman Palinurus strayed : 6.438. Who, as he whilom watched the Libyan stars 6.439. Had fallen, plunging from his lofty seat 6.440. Into the billowy deep. Aeneas now 6.441. Discerned his sad face through the blinding gloom 6.442. And hailed him thus : “0 Palinurus, tell 6.443. What god was he who ravished thee away 6.444. From me and mine, beneath the o'crwhelming wave? 6.445. Speak on! for he who ne'er had spoke untrue 6.446. Apollo's self, did mock my listening mind 6.447. And chanted me a faithful oracle 6.448. That thou shouldst ride the seas unharmed, and touch 6.449. Ausonian shores. Is this the pledge divine?” 6.450. Then he, “0 chieftain of Anchises' race 6.451. Apollo's tripod told thee not untrue. 6.452. No god did thrust me down beneath the wave 6.453. For that strong rudder unto which I clung 6.454. My charge and duty, and my ship's sole guide 6.455. Wrenched from its place, dropped with me as I fell. 6.456. Not for myself—by the rude seas I swear— 6.457. Did I have terror, but lest thy good ship 6.458. Stripped of her gear, and her poor pilot lost 6.459. Should fail and founder in that rising flood. 6.460. Three wintry nights across the boundless main 6.461. The south wind buffeted and bore me on; 6.462. At the fourth daybreak, lifted from the surge 6.463. I looked at last on Italy, and swam 6.464. With weary stroke on stroke unto the land. 6.465. Safe was I then. Alas! but as I climbed 6.466. With garments wet and heavy, my clenched hand 6.467. Grasping the steep rock, came a cruel horde 6.468. Upon me with drawn blades, accounting me— 6.469. So blind they were!—a wrecker's prize and spoil. 6.470. Now are the waves my tomb; and wandering winds 6.471. Toss me along the coast. 0, I implore 6.472. By heaven's sweet light, by yonder upper air 6.473. By thy lost father, by lulus dear 6.474. Thy rising hope and joy, that from these woes 6.475. Unconquered chieftain, thou wilt set me free! 6.476. Give me a grave where Velia 's haven lies 6.477. For thou hast power! Or if some path there be 6.478. If thy celestial mother guide thee here 6.479. (For not, I ween, without the grace of gods 6.480. Wilt cross yon rivers vast, you Stygian pool) 6.481. Reach me a hand! and bear with thee along! 6.482. Until (least gift!) death bring me peace and calm.” 6.483. Such words he spoke: the priestess thus replied: 6.484. “Why, Palinurus, these unblest desires? 6.485. Wouldst thou, unsepulchred, behold the wave 6.486. of Styx, stern river of th' Eumenides? 6.487. Wouldst thou, unbidden, tread its fearful strand? 6.488. Hope not by prayer to change the laws of Heaven! 6.489. But heed my words, and in thy memory 6.490. Cherish and keep, to cheer this evil time. 6.491. Lo, far and wide, led on by signs from Heaven 6.492. Thy countrymen from many a templed town 6.493. Shall consecrate thy dust, and build thy tomb 6.494. A tomb with annual feasts and votive flowers 6.495. To Palinurus a perpetual fame!” 6.496. Thus was his anguish stayed, from his sad heart 6.497. Grief ebbed awhile, and even to this day 6.499. The twain continue now their destined way 6.500. Unto the river's edge. The Ferryman 6.501. Who watched them through still groves approach his shore 6.502. Hailed them, at distance, from the Stygian wave 6.503. And with reproachful summons thus began: 6.504. “Whoe'er thou art that in this warrior guise 6.505. Unto my river comest,—quickly tell 6.506. Thine errand! Stay thee where thou standest now! 6.507. This is ghosts' land, for sleep and slumbrous dark. 6.508. That flesh and blood my Stygian ship should bear 6.509. Were lawless wrong. Unwillingly I took 6.510. Alcides, Theseus, and Pirithous 6.511. Though sons of gods, too mighty to be quelled. 6.512. One bound in chains yon warder of Hell's door 6.513. And dragged him trembling from our monarch's throne: 6.514. The others, impious, would steal away 6.515. Out of her bride-bed Pluto's ravished Queen.” 6.516. Briefly th' Amphrysian priestess made reply: 6.517. “Not ours, such guile: Fear not! This warrior's arms 6.518. Are innocent. Let Cerberus from his cave 6.519. Bay ceaselessly, the bloodless shades to scare; 6.520. Let Proserpine immaculately keep 6.521. The house and honor of her kinsman King. 6.522. Trojan Aeneas, famed for faithful prayer 6.523. And victory in arms, descends to seek 6.524. His father in this gloomy deep of death. 6.525. If loyal goodness move not such as thee 6.526. This branch at least” (she drew it from her breast) 6.527. “Thou knowest well.” 6.528. Then cooled his wrathful heart; 6.529. With silent lips he looked and wondering eyes 6.530. Upon that fateful, venerable wand 6.531. Seen only once an age. Shoreward he turned 6.532. And pushed their way his boat of leaden hue. 6.533. The rows of crouching ghosts along the thwarts 6.534. He scattered, cleared a passage, and gave room 6.535. To great Aeneas. The light shallop groaned 6.536. Beneath his weight, and, straining at each seam 6.537. Took in the foul flood with unstinted flow. 6.538. At last the hero and his priestess-guide 6.539. Came safe across the river, and were moored 6.541. Here Cerberus, with triple-throated roar 6.542. Made all the region ring, as there he lay 6.543. At vast length in his cave. The Sibyl then 6.544. Seeing the serpents writhe around his neck 6.545. Threw down a loaf with honeyed herbs imbued 6.546. And drowsy essences: he, ravenous 6.547. Gaped wide his three fierce mouths and snatched the bait 6.645. But, speaking first, he said, in their own tongue: 6.646. “Deiphobus, strong warrior, nobly born 6.647. of Teucer's royal stem, what ruthless foe 6.752. Came on my view; their hands made stroke at Heaven 6.753. And strove to thrust Jove from his seat on high. 6.754. I saw Salmoneus his dread stripes endure 6.755. Who dared to counterfeit Olympian thunder 6.756. And Jove's own fire. In chariot of four steeds 6.757. Brandishing torches, he triumphant rode 6.758. Through throngs of Greeks, o'er Elis ' sacred way 6.759. Demanding worship as a god. 0 fool! 6.760. To mock the storm's inimitable flash— 6.761. With crash of hoofs and roll of brazen wheel! 6.762. But mightiest Jove from rampart of thick cloud 6.763. Hurled his own shaft, no flickering, mortal flame 6.764. And in vast whirl of tempest laid him low. 6.765. Next unto these, on Tityos I looked 6.766. Child of old Earth, whose womb all creatures bears: 6.767. Stretched o'er nine roods he lies; a vulture huge 6.768. Tears with hooked beak at his immortal side 6.769. Or deep in entrails ever rife with pain 6.770. Gropes for a feast, making his haunt and home 6.771. In the great Titan bosom; nor will give 6.772. To ever new-born flesh surcease of woe. 6.773. Why name Ixion and Pirithous 6.774. The Lapithae, above whose impious brows 6.775. A crag of flint hangs quaking to its fall 6.776. As if just toppling down, while couches proud 6.777. Propped upon golden pillars, bid them feast 6.778. In royal glory: but beside them lies 6.779. The eldest of the Furies, whose dread hands 6.780. Thrust from the feast away, and wave aloft 6.781. A flashing firebrand, with shrieks of woe. 6.782. Here in a prison-house awaiting doom 6.783. Are men who hated, long as life endured 6.784. Their brothers, or maltreated their gray sires 6.785. Or tricked a humble friend; the men who grasped 6.786. At hoarded riches, with their kith and kin 6.787. Not sharing ever—an unnumbered throng; 6.788. Here slain adulterers be; and men who dared 6.789. To fight in unjust cause, and break all faith 6.790. With their own lawful lords. Seek not to know 6.791. What forms of woe they feel, what fateful shape 6.792. of retribution hath o'erwhelmed them there. 6.793. Some roll huge boulders up; some hang on wheels 6.794. Lashed to the whirling spokes; in his sad seat 6.795. Theseus is sitting, nevermore to rise; 6.796. Unhappy Phlegyas uplifts his voice 6.797. In warning through the darkness, calling loud 6.798. ‘0, ere too late, learn justice and fear God!’ 6.799. Yon traitor sold his country, and for gold 6.800. Enchained her to a tyrant, trafficking 6.801. In laws, for bribes enacted or made void; 6.802. Another did incestuously take 6.803. His daughter for a wife in lawless bonds. 6.804. All ventured some unclean, prodigious crime; 6.805. And what they dared, achieved. I could not tell 6.806. Not with a hundred mouths, a hundred tongues 6.807. Or iron voice, their divers shapes of sin 6.809. So spake Apollo's aged prophetess. 6.810. “Now up and on!” she cried. “Thy task fulfil! 6.811. We must make speed. Behold yon arching doors 6.812. Yon walls in furnace of the Cyclops forged! 6.813. 'T is there we are commanded to lay down 6.814. Th' appointed offering.” So, side by side 6.815. Swift through the intervening dark they strode 6.816. And, drawing near the portal-arch, made pause. 6.817. Aeneas, taking station at the door 6.818. Pure, lustral waters o'er his body threw 6.820. Now, every rite fulfilled, and tribute due 6.821. Paid to the sovereign power of Proserpine 6.822. At last within a land delectable 6.823. Their journey lay, through pleasurable bowers 6.824. of groves where all is joy,—a blest abode! 6.825. An ampler sky its roseate light bestows 6.826. On that bright land, which sees the cloudless beam 6.827. of suns and planets to our earth unknown. 6.828. On smooth green lawns, contending limb with limb 6.829. Immortal athletes play, and wrestle long 6.830. 'gainst mate or rival on the tawny sand; 6.831. With sounding footsteps and ecstatic song 6.832. Some thread the dance divine: among them moves 6.833. The bard of Thrace, in flowing vesture clad 6.834. Discoursing seven-noted melody 6.835. Who sweeps the numbered strings with changeful hand 6.836. Or smites with ivory point his golden lyre. 6.837. Here Trojans be of eldest, noblest race 6.838. Great-hearted heroes, born in happier times 6.839. Ilus, Assaracus, and Dardanus 6.840. Illustrious builders of the Trojan town. 6.841. Their arms and shadowy chariots he views 6.842. And lances fixed in earth, while through the fields 6.843. Their steeds without a bridle graze at will. 6.844. For if in life their darling passion ran 6.845. To chariots, arms, or glossy-coated steeds 6.846. The self-same joy, though in their graves, they feel. 6.847. Lo! on the left and right at feast reclined 6.848. Are other blessed souls, whose chorus sings 6.849. Victorious paeans on the fragrant air 6.850. of laurel groves; and hence to earth outpours 6.851. Eridanus, through forests rolling free. 6.852. Here dwell the brave who for their native land 6.853. Fell wounded on the field; here holy priests 6.854. Who kept them undefiled their mortal day; 6.855. And poets, of whom the true-inspired song 6.856. Deserved Apollo's name; and all who found 6.857. New arts, to make man's life more blest or fair; 6.858. Yea! here dwell all those dead whose deeds bequeath 6.859. Deserved and grateful memory to their kind. 6.860. And each bright brow a snow-white fillet wears. 6.861. Unto this host the Sibyl turned, and hailed 6.862. Musaeus, midmost of a numerous throng 6.863. Who towered o'er his peers a shoulder higher: 6.864. “0 spirits blest! 0 venerable bard! 6.865. Declare what dwelling or what region holds 6.866. Anchises, for whose sake we twain essayed 6.867. Yon passage over the wide streams of hell.” 6.868. And briefly thus the hero made reply: 6.869. “No fixed abode is ours. In shadowy groves 6.870. We make our home, or meadows fresh and fair 6.871. With streams whose flowery banks our couches be. 6.872. But you, if thitherward your wishes turn 6.873. Climb yonder hill, where I your path may show.” 6.874. So saying, he strode forth and led them on 6.875. Till from that vantage they had prospect fair 6.876. of a wide, shining land; thence wending down 6.877. They left the height they trod; for far below 6.878. Father Anchises in a pleasant vale 6.879. Stood pondering, while his eyes and thought surveyed 6.880. A host of prisoned spirits, who there abode 6.881. Awaiting entrance to terrestrial air. 6.882. And musing he reviewed the legions bright 6.883. of his own progeny and offspring proud— 6.884. Their fates and fortunes, virtues and great deeds. 6.885. Soon he discerned Aeneas drawing nigh 6.886. o'er the green slope, and, lifting both his hands 6.887. In eager welcome, spread them swiftly forth. 6.888. Tears from his eyelids rained, and thus he spoke: 6.889. “Art here at last? Hath thy well-proven love 6.890. of me thy sire achieved yon arduous way? 6.891. Will Heaven, beloved son, once more allow 6.892. That eye to eye we look? and shall I hear 7.177. in thunder spoke, and, with effulgent ray 7.178. from his ethereal tract outreaching far 7.179. hook visibly the golden-gleaming air. 7.180. Swift, through the concourse of the Trojans, spread 7.181. news of the day at hand when they should build 7.182. their destined walls. So, with rejoicing heart 7.183. at such vast omen, they set forth a feast 7.184. with zealous emulation, ranging well 7.186. Soon as the morrow with the lamp of dawn 7.187. looked o'er the world, they took their separate ways 7.188. exploring shore and towns; here spread the pools 7.189. and fountain of Numicius; here they see 7.190. the river Tiber, where bold Latins dwell. 7.191. Anchises' son chose out from his brave band 7.789. thy late and unavailing prayer shall rise. 7.790. Now was my time to rest. But as I come 7.791. close to my journey's end, thou spoilest me 7.792. of comfort in my death.” With this the King 8.306. rolling this way and that his wrathful eyes 8.307. gnashing his teeth. Three times his ire surveyed 8.308. the slope of Aventine ; three times he stormed 8.309. the rock-built gate in vain; and thrice withdrew 8.310. to rest him in the vale. But high above 8.311. a pointed peak arose, sheer face of rock 8.312. on every side, which towered into view 8.313. from the long ridge above the vaulted cave 8.314. fit haunt for birds of evil-boding wing. 8.315. This peak, which leftward toward the river leaned 8.316. he smote upon its right—his utmost blow — 8.317. breaking its bases Ioose; then suddenly 8.318. thrust at it: as he thrust, the thunder-sound 8.319. filled all the arching sky, the river's banks 8.320. asunder leaped, and Tiber in alarm 8.321. reversed his flowing wave. So Cacus' lair 8.322. lay shelterless, and naked to the day 8.323. the gloomy caverns of his vast abode 8.324. tood open, deeply yawning, just as if 8.325. the riven earth should crack, and open wide 8.326. th' infernal world and fearful kingdoms pale 8.327. which gods abhor; and to the realms on high 8.328. the measureless abyss should be laid bare 8.329. and pale ghosts shrink before the entering sun. 8.330. Now upon Cacus, startled by the glare 8.331. caged in the rocks and howling horribly 8.332. Alcides hurled his weapons, raining down 8.333. all sorts of deadly missiles—trunks of trees 8.334. and monstrous boulders from the mountain torn. 8.335. But when the giant from his mortal strait 8.336. no refuge knew, he blew from his foul jaws 8.337. a storm of smoke—incredible to tell — 8.338. and with thick darkness blinding every eye 8.339. concealed his cave, uprolling from below 8.340. one pitch-black night of mingled gloom and fire. 8.341. This would Alcides not endure, but leaped 8.342. headlong across the flames, where densest hung 8.343. the rolling smoke, and through the cavern surged 8.344. a drifting and impenetrable cloud. 8.345. With Cacus, who breathed unavailing flame 8.346. he grappled in the dark, locked limb with limb 8.347. and strangled him, till o'er the bloodless throat 8.348. the starting eyeballs stared. Then Hercules 8.349. burst wide the doorway of the sooty den 8.350. and unto Heaven and all the people showed 8.351. the stolen cattle and the robber's crimes 8.352. and dragged forth by the feet the shapeless corpse 8.353. of the foul monster slain. The people gazed 8.354. insatiate on the grewsome eyes, the breast 8.355. of bristling shag, the face both beast and man 8.356. and that fire-blasted throat whence breathed no more 8.357. the extinguished flame. 'T is since that famous day 8.358. we celebrate this feast, and glad of heart 8.359. each generation keeps the holy time. 8.360. Potitius began the worship due 8.361. and our Pinarian house is vowed to guard 8.362. the rites of Hercules. An altar fair 8.363. within this wood they raised; 't is called ‘the Great,’ 8.364. and Ara Maxima its name shall be. 8.365. Come now, my warriors, and bind your brows 8.366. with garlands worthy of the gift of Heaven. 8.367. Lift high the cup in every thankful hand 8.368. and praise our people's god with plenteous wine.” 8.369. He spoke; and of the poplar's changeful sheen 8.418. from trees engendered and stout heart of oak. 8.419. Nor laws nor arts they knew; nor how to tame 8.420. burls to the yoke, nor fill great barns with store 8.421. and hoard the gathered grain; but rudely fared 8.424. in flight from Jove's dread arms, his sceptre lost 8.425. and he an exiled King. That savage race 8.426. he gathered from the mountain slopes; and gave 8.427. wise laws and statutes; so that latent land 8.428. was Latium, ‘hid land’, where he hid so long. 8.429. The golden centuries by legends told 8.430. were under that good King, whose equal sway 8.431. untroubled peace to all his peoples gave. 8.432. But after slow decline arrived an age 8.433. degenerate and of a darker hue 8.434. prone to insensate war and greed of gain. 8.435. Then came Sicanian and Ausonian tribes 8.436. and oft the land of Saturn lost its name. 8.437. New chieftains rose, and Thybris, giant King 8.438. and violent, from whom th' Italians named 8.446. warned by Apollo's word.” He scarce had said 8.608. ummoned Evander. From his couch arose 8.609. the royal sire, and o'er his aged frame 8.610. a tunic threw, tying beneath his feet 8.611. the Tuscan sandals: an Arcadian sword 8.612. girt at his left, was over one shoulder slung 8.613. his cloak of panther trailing from behind. 8.614. A pair of watch-dogs from the lofty door 8.615. ran close, their lord attending, as he sought 8.616. his guest Aeneas; for his princely soul 8.617. remembered faithfully his former word 8.618. and promised gift. Aeneas with like mind 8.619. was stirring early. King Evander's son 8.620. Pallas was at his side; Achates too 8.621. accompanied his friend. All these conjoin 8.622. in hand-clasp and good-morrow, taking seats 8.623. in midcourt of the house, and give the hour 8.625. “Great leader of the Teucrians, while thy life 8.626. in safety stands, I call not Trojan power 8.627. vanquished or fallen. But to help thy war 8.628. my small means match not thy redoubled name. 8.629. Yon Tuscan river is my bound. That way 8.630. Rutulia thrusts us hard and chafes our wall 8.631. with loud, besieging arms. But I propose 8.632. to league with thee a numerous array 8.633. of kings and mighty tribes, which fortune strange 8.634. now brings to thy defence. Thou comest here 8.635. because the Fates intend. Not far from ours 8.636. a city on an ancient rock is seen 8.637. Agylla, which a warlike Lydian clan 8.638. built on the Tuscan hills. It prospered well 8.639. for many a year, then under the proud yoke 8.640. of King Mezentius it came and bore 8.641. his cruel sway. Why tell the loathsome deeds 8.642. and crimes unspeakable the despot wrought? 8.643. May Heaven requite them on his impious head 8.644. and on his children! For he used to chain 8.645. dead men to living, hand on hand was laid 8.646. and face on face,—torment incredible! 8.647. Till, locked in blood-stained, horrible embrace 8.648. a lingering death they found. But at the last 8.649. his people rose in furious despair 8.650. and while he blasphemously raged, assailed 8.651. his life and throne, cut down his guards 8.652. and fired his regal dwellings; he, the while 8.653. escaped immediate death and fied away 8.654. to the Rutulian land, to find defence 8.655. in Turnus hospitality. To-day 8.656. Etruria, to righteous anger stirred 8.657. demands with urgent arms her guilty King. 8.658. To their large host, Aeneas, I will give 8.659. an added strength, thyself. For yonder shores 8.660. re-echo with the tumult and the cry 8.661. of ships in close array; their eager lords 8.662. are clamoring for battle. But the song 8.663. of the gray omen-giver thus declares 8.664. their destiny: ‘O goodly princes born 8.665. of old Maeonian lineage! Ye that are 8.666. the bloom and glory of an ancient race 8.667. whom just occasions now and noble rage 8.668. enflame against Mezentius your foe 8.669. it is decreed that yonder nation proud 8.670. hall never submit to chiefs Italian-born. 8.671. Seek ye a king from far!’ So in the field 8.672. inert and fearful lies Etruria's force 8.673. disarmed by oracles. Their Tarchon sent 8.674. envoys who bore a sceptre and a crown 8.675. even to me, and prayed I should assume 8.676. the sacred emblems of Etruria's king 8.677. and lead their host to war. But unto me 8.678. cold, sluggish age, now barren and outworn 8.679. denies new kingdoms, and my slow-paced powers 8.680. run to brave deeds no more. Nor could I urge 8.681. my son, who by his Sabine mother's line 8.682. is half Italian-born. Thyself art he 8.683. whose birth illustrious and manly prime 8.684. fate favors and celestial powers approve. 8.685. Therefore go forth, O bravest chief and King 8.686. of Troy and Italy ! To thee I give 8.687. the hope and consolation of our throne 8.688. pallas, my son, and bid him find in thee 8.689. a master and example, while he learns 8.690. the soldier's arduous toil. With thy brave deeds 8.691. let him familiar grow, and reverence thee 8.692. with youthful love and honor. In his train 8.693. two hundred horsemen of Arcadia 8.694. our choicest men-at-arms, shall ride; and he 8.695. in his own name an equal band shall bring 8.696. to follow only thee.” Such the discourse. 8.697. With meditative brows and downcast eyes 8.698. Aeneas and Achates, sad at heart 8.699. mused on unnumbered perils yet to come. 8.700. But out of cloudless sky Cythera's Queen 8.701. gave sudden signal: from th' ethereal dome 8.702. a thunder-peal and flash of quivering fire 8.703. tumultuous broke, as if the world would fall 8.704. and bellowing Tuscan trumpets shook the air. 8.705. All eyes look up. Again and yet again 8.706. crashed the terrible din, and where the sky 8.707. looked clearest hung a visionary cloud 8.708. whence through the brightness blazed resounding arms. 8.709. All hearts stood still. But Troy 's heroic son 8.710. knew that his mother in the skies redeemed 8.711. her pledge in sound of thunder: so he cried 8.712. “Seek not, my friend, seek not thyself to read 8.713. the meaning of the omen. 'T is to me 8.714. Olympus calls. My goddess-mother gave 8.715. long since her promise of a heavenly sign 8.716. if war should burst; and that her power would bring 8.717. a panoply from Vulcan through the air 8.718. to help us at our need. Alas, what deaths 8.719. over Laurentum's ill-starred host impend! 8.720. O Turnus, what a reckoning thou shalt pay 8.721. to me in arms! O Tiber, in thy wave 8.722. what helms and shields and mighty soldiers slain 8.723. hall in confusion roll! Yea, let them lead 8.725. He said: and from the lofty throne uprose. 8.726. Straightway he roused anew the slumbering fire 8.727. acred to Hercules, and glad at heart 8.728. adored, as yesterday, the household gods 8.729. revered by good Evander, at whose side 8.730. the Trojan company made sacrifice 8.731. of chosen lambs, with fitting rites and true. 10.495. who also for the roughness of the ground 10.496. were all unmounted: he (the last resource 10.497. of men in straits) to wild entreaty turned 10.498. and taunts, enkindling their faint hearts anew: 10.499. “Whither, my men! O, by your own brave deeds 10.500. O, by our lord Evander's happy wars 10.501. the proud hopes I had to make my name 10.502. a rival glory,—think not ye can fly! 10.503. Your swords alone can carve ye the safe way 10.504. traight through your foes. Where yonder warrior-throng 10.505. is fiercest, thickest, there and only there 10.506. your Country's honor calls for men like you 11.429. for other land or people yearn, and fate 12.941. But Sire Aeneas, hearing Turnus' name 12.942. down the steep rampart from the citadel 12.943. unlingering tried, all lesser task laid by 12.944. with joy exultant and dread-thundering arms. 12.945. Like Athos ' crest he loomed, or soaring top 12.946. of Eryx, when the nodding oaks resound 12.947. or sovereign Apennine that lifts in air 12.948. his forehead of triumphant snow. All eyes 12.949. of Troy, Rutulia, and Italy 12.950. were fixed his way; and all who kept a guard 12.951. on lofty rampart, or in siege below 12.952. were battering the foundations, now laid by |
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11. Vergil, Georgics, 3.1-3.48, 4.453-4.527 (1st cent. BCE - 1st cent. BCE)
| 3.1. Thee too, great Pales, will I hymn, and thee 3.2. Amphrysian shepherd, worthy to be sung 3.3. You, woods and waves Lycaean. All themes beside 3.4. Which else had charmed the vacant mind with song 3.5. Are now waxed common. of harsh Eurystheus who 3.6. The story knows not, or that praiseless king 3.7. Busiris, and his altars? or by whom 3.8. Hath not the tale been told of Hylas young 3.9. Latonian Delos and Hippodame 3.10. And Pelops for his ivory shoulder famed 3.11. Keen charioteer? Needs must a path be tried 3.12. By which I too may lift me from the dust 3.13. And float triumphant through the mouths of men. 3.14. Yea, I shall be the first, so life endure 3.15. To lead the Muses with me, as I pa 3.16. To mine own country from the Aonian height; 3.17. I, placeName key= 3.18. of Idumaea, and raise a marble shrine 3.19. On thy green plain fast by the water-side 3.20. Where Mincius winds more vast in lazy coils 3.21. And rims his margent with the tender reed. 3.22. Amid my shrine shall Caesar's godhead dwell. 3.23. To him will I, as victor, bravely dight 3.24. In Tyrian purple, drive along the bank 3.25. A hundred four-horse cars. All placeName key= 3.26. Leaving Alpheus and Molorchus' grove 3.27. On foot shall strive, or with the raw-hide glove; 3.28. Whilst I, my head with stripped green olive crowned 3.29. Will offer gifts. Even 'tis present joy 3.30. To lead the high processions to the fane 3.31. And view the victims felled; or how the scene 3.32. Sunders with shifted face, and placeName key= 3.33. Inwoven thereon with those proud curtains rise. 3.34. of gold and massive ivory on the door 3.35. I'll trace the battle of the Gangarides 3.36. And our Quirinus' conquering arms, and there 3.37. Surging with war, and hugely flowing, the placeName key= 3.38. And columns heaped on high with naval brass. 3.39. And placeName key= 3.40. And quelled Niphates, and the Parthian foe 3.41. Who trusts in flight and backward-volleying darts 3.42. And trophies torn with twice triumphant hand 3.43. From empires twain on ocean's either shore. 3.44. And breathing forms of Parian marble there 3.45. Shall stand, the offspring of Assaracus 3.46. And great names of the Jove-descended folk 3.47. And father Tros, and placeName key= 3.48. of Cynthus. And accursed Envy there 4.453. Exclaimed, “Cyrene, sister, not for naught 4.454. Scared by a groan so deep, behold! 'tis he 4.455. Even Aristaeus, thy heart's fondest care 4.456. Here by the brink of the Peneian sire 4.457. Stands woebegone and weeping, and by name 4.458. Cries out upon thee for thy cruelty.” 4.459. To whom, strange terror knocking at her heart 4.460. “Bring, bring him to our sight,” the mother cried; 4.461. “His feet may tread the threshold even of Gods.” 4.462. So saying, she bids the flood yawn wide and yield 4.463. A pathway for his footsteps; but the wave 4.464. Arched mountain-wise closed round him, and within 4.465. Its mighty bosom welcomed, and let speed 4.466. To the deep river-bed. And now, with eye 4.467. of wonder gazing on his mother's hall 4.468. And watery kingdom and cave-prisoned pool 4.469. And echoing groves, he went, and, stunned by that 4.470. Stupendous whirl of waters, separate saw 4.471. All streams beneath the mighty earth that glide 4.472. Phasis and Lycus, and that fountain-head 4.473. Whence first the deep Enipeus leaps to light 4.474. Whence father placeName key= 4.475. And Hypanis that roars amid his rocks 4.476. And Mysian Caicus, and, bull-browed 4.477. 'Twixt either gilded horn, placeName key= 4.478. Than whom none other through the laughing plain 4.479. More furious pours into the purple sea. 4.480. Soon as the chamber's hanging roof of stone 4.481. Was gained, and now Cyrene from her son 4.482. Had heard his idle weeping, in due course 4.483. Clear water for his hands the sisters bring 4.484. With napkins of shorn pile, while others heap 4.485. The board with dainties, and set on afresh 4.486. The brimming goblets; with Panchaian fire 4.487. Upleap the altars; then the mother spake 4.488. “Take beakers of Maconian wine,” she said 4.489. “Pour we to Ocean.” Ocean, sire of all 4.490. She worships, and the sister-nymphs who guard 4.491. The hundred forests and the hundred streams; 4.492. Thrice Vesta's fire with nectar clear she dashed 4.493. Thrice to the roof-top shot the flame and shone: 4.494. Armed with which omen she essayed to speak: 4.495. “In Neptune's gulf Carpathian dwells a seer 4.496. Caerulean Proteus, he who metes the main 4.497. With fish-drawn chariot of two-footed steeds; 4.498. Now visits he his native home once more 4.499. Pallene and the Emathian ports; to him 4.500. We nymphs do reverence, ay, and Nereus old; 4.501. For all things knows the seer, both those which are 4.502. And have been, or which time hath yet to bring; 4.503. So willed it Neptune, whose portentous flocks 4.504. And loathly sea-calves 'neath the surge he feeds. 4.505. Him first, my son, behoves thee seize and bind 4.506. That he may all the cause of sickness show 4.507. And grant a prosperous end. For save by force 4.508. No rede will he vouchsafe, nor shalt thou bend 4.509. His soul by praying; whom once made captive, ply 4.510. With rigorous force and fetters; against these 4.511. His wiles will break and spend themselves in vain. 4.512. I, when the sun has lit his noontide fires 4.513. When the blades thirst, and cattle love the shade 4.514. Myself will guide thee to the old man's haunt 4.515. Whither he hies him weary from the waves 4.516. That thou mayst safelier steal upon his sleep. 4.517. But when thou hast gripped him fast with hand and gyve 4.518. Then divers forms and bestial semblance 4.519. Shall mock thy grasp; for sudden he will change 4.520. To bristly boar, fell tigress, dragon scaled 4.521. And tawny-tufted lioness, or send forth 4.522. A crackling sound of fire, and so shake of 4.523. The fetters, or in showery drops anon 4.524. Dissolve and vanish. But the more he shift 4.525. His endless transformations, thou, my son 4.526. More straitlier clench the clinging bands, until 4.527. His body's shape return to that thou sawest |
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12. Lucan, Pharsalia, 2.85, 2.103-2.104, 2.114-2.116, 2.142-2.144, 2.152-2.153, 2.159, 2.169-2.193, 2.221-2.222 (1st cent. CE - 1st cent. CE)
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13. Pliny The Elder, Natural History, 34.84 (1st cent. CE - 1st cent. CE)
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14. Quintilian, Institutes of Oratory, 2.13.13, 12.10.9 (1st cent. CE - 1st cent. CE)
| 2.13.13. Timanthes, who was, I think, a native of Cythnus, provides an example of this in the painting with which he won the victory over Colotes of Teos. It represented the sacrifice of Iphigenia, and the artist had depicted an expression of grief on the face of Calchas and of still greater grief on that of Ulysses, while he had given Menelaus an agony of sorrow beyond which his art could not go. Having exhausted his powers of emotional expression he was at a loss to portray the father's face as it deserved, and solved the problem by veiling his head and leaving his sorrow to the imagination of the spectator. 12.10.9. On the other hand, Phidias is regarded as more gifted in his representation of gods station of men, and indeed for chryselephantine statues he is without a peer, as he would in truth be, even if he had produced nothing in this material beyond his Minerva at Athens and his Jupiter at Olympia in Elis, whose beauty is such that it is said to have added something even to the awe with which the god was already regarded: so perfectly did the majesty of the work give the impression of godhead. Lysippus and Praxiteles are asserted to be supreme as regards faithfulness to nature. For Demetrius is blamed for carrying realism too far, and is less concerned about the beauty than the truth of his work. |
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15. Quintilian, Institutio Oratoria, 12.10.3-12.10.9 (1st cent. CE - 1st cent. CE)
| 12.10.3. The first great painters, whose works deserve inspection for something more than their mere antiquity, are said to have been Polygnotus and Aglaophon, whose simple colouring has still such enthusiastic admirers that they prefer these almost primitive works, which may be regarded as the first foundations of the art that was to be, over the works of the greatest of their successors, their motive being, in my opinion, an ostentatious desire to seem persons of superior taste. 12.10.4. Later Zeuxis and Parrhasius contributed much to the progress of painting. These artists were separated by no great distance of time, since both flourished about the period of the Peloponnesian war; for example, Xenophon has preserved a conversation between Socrates and Parrhasius. The first-mentioned seems to have discovered the method of representing light and shade, while the latter is said to have devoted special attention to the treatment of line. 12.10.5. For Zeuxis emphasised the limbs of the human body, thinking thereby to add dignity and grandeur to his style: it is generally supposed that in this he followed the example of Homer, who likes to represent even his female characters as being of heroic mould. Parrhasius, on the other hand, was so fine a draughtsman that he has been styled the law-giver of his art, on the ground that all other artists take his representations of gods and heroes as models, as though no other course were possible. 12.10.6. It was, however, from about the period of the reign of Philip down to that of the successors of Alexander that painting flourished more especially, although the different artists are distinguished for different excellences. Protogenes, for example, was renowned for accuracy, Pamphilus and Melanthius for soundness of taste, Antiphilus for facility, Theon of Samos for his depiction of imaginary scenes, known as ÏανÏαÏίαι, and Apelles for genius and grace, in the latter of which qualities he took especial pride. Euphranor, on the other hand, was admired on the ground that, while he ranked with the most eminent masters of other arts, he at the same time achieved a marvellous skill in the arts of sculpture and painting. 12.10.7. The same differences exist between sculptors. The art of Callon and Hegesias is somewhat rude and recalls the Etruscans, but the work of Calamis has already begun to be less stiff, while Myron's statues show a greater form than had been achieved by the artists just mentioned. Polyclitus surpassed all others for care and grace, but although the majority of critics account him as the greatest of sculptors, to avoid making him faultless they express the opinion that his work is lacking in grandeur. 12.10.8. For while he gave the human form an ideal grace, he is thought to have been less successful in representing the dignity of the gods. He is further alleged to have shrunken from representing persons of maturer years, and to have ventured on nothing more difficult than a smooth and beardless face. But the qualities lacking in Polyclitus are allowed to have been possessed by Phidias and Alcamenes. 12.10.9. On the other hand, Phidias is regarded as more gifted in his representation of gods station of men, and indeed for chryselephantine statues he is without a peer, as he would in truth be, even if he had produced nothing in this material beyond his Minerva at Athens and his Jupiter at Olympia in Elis, whose beauty is such that it is said to have added something even to the awe with which the god was already regarded: so perfectly did the majesty of the work give the impression of godhead. Lysippus and Praxiteles are asserted to be supreme as regards faithfulness to nature. For Demetrius is blamed for carrying realism too far, and is less concerned about the beauty than the truth of his work. |
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16. Seneca The Younger, On Anger, 3.18.1 (1st cent. CE - 1st cent. CE)
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17. Pliny The Younger, Letters, 5.6, 5.6.43-5.6.44 (2nd cent. CE - 2nd cent. CE)
| 5.6. To Domitius Apollinaris. I was charmed with the kind consideration which led you, when you heard that I was about to visit my Tuscan villa in the summer, to advise me not to do so during the season when you consider the district unhealthy. Undoubtedly, the region along the Tuscan coast is trying and dangerous to the health, but my property lies well back from the sea; indeed, it is just under the Apennines, which are the healthiest of our mountain ranges. However, that you may not have the slightest anxiety on my account, let me tell you all about the climatic conditions, the lie of the land, and the charms of my villa. It will be as pleasant reading for you as it is pleasant writing for me. In winter the air is cold and frosty The contour of the district is most beautiful. Picture to yourself an immense amphitheatre, such as only Nature can create, with a wide-spreading plain ringed with hills, and the summits of the hills themselves covered with tall and ancient forests. There is plentiful and varied hunting to be had. Down the mountain slopes there are stretches of timber woods, and among these are rich, deep-soiled hillocks - where if you look for a stone you will have hard work to find one - which are just as fertile as the most level plains, and ripen just as rich harvests, though later in the season. Below these, along the whole hillsides, stretch the vineyards which present an unbroken line far and wide, on the borders and lowest level of which comes a fringe of trees. Then you reach the meadows and the fields - fields which only the most powerful oxen and the stoutest ploughs can turn. The soil is so tough and composed of such thick clods that when it is first broken up it has to be furrowed nine times before it is subdued. The meadows are jewelled with flowers, and produce trefoil and other herbs, always tender and soft, and looking as though they were always fresh. For all parts are well nourished by never-failing streams, and even where there is most water there are no swamps, for the slope of the land drains off into the Tiber all the moisture that it receives and cannot itself absorb. The Tiber runs through the middle of the plain; it is navigable for ships, and all the grain is carried downstream to the city, at least in winter and spring. In summer the volume of water dwindles away, leaving but the name of a great river to the dried-up bed, but in the autumn it recovers its flood. You would be delighted if you could obtain a view of the district from the mountain height, for you would think you were looking not so much at earth and fields as at a beautiful landscape picture of wonderful loveliness. Such is the variety, such the arrangement of the scene, that wherever the eyes fall they are sure to be refreshed. My villa, though it lies at the foot of the hill, enjoys as fine a prospect as though it stood on the summit; the ascent is so gentle and easy, and the gradient so unnoticeable, that you find yourself at the top without feeling that you are ascending. The Apennines lie behind it, but at a considerable distance, and even on a cloudless and still day it gets a breeze from this range, never boisterous and rough, for its strength is broken and lost in the distance it has to travel. Most of the house faces south; in summer it gets the sun from the sixth hour, and in winter considerably earlier, inviting it as it were into the portico, which is broad and long to correspond, and contains a number of apartments and an old-fashioned hall. In front, there is a terrace laid out in different patterns and bounded with an edging of box; then comes a sloping ridge with figures of animals on both sides cut out of the box-trees, while on the level ground stands an acanthus-tree, with leaves so soft that I might almost call them liquid. Round this is a walk bordered by evergreens pressed and trimmed into various shapes; then comes an exercise ground, round like a circus, which surrounds the box-trees that are cut into different forms, and the dwarf shrubs that are kept clipped. Everything is protected by an enclosure, which is hidden and withdrawn from sight by the tiers of box-trees. Beyond is a meadow, as well worth seeing for its natural charm as the features just described are for their artificial beauty, and beyond that there stretches an expanse of fields and a number of other meadows and thickets. At the head of the portico there runs out the dining-room, from the doors of which can be seen the end of the terrace with the meadow and a good expanse of country beyond it, while from the windows the view on the one hand commands one side of the terrace and the part of the villa which juts out, and on the other the grove and foliage of the adjoining riding-school. Almost opposite to the middle of the portico is a summer-house standing back a little, with a small open space in the middle shaded by four plane-trees. Among them is a marble fountain, from which the water plays upon and lightly sprinkles the roots of the plane-trees and the grass plot beneath them. In this summer-house there is a bed-chamber which excludes all light, noise, and sound, and adjoining it is a dining-room for my friends, which faces upon the small court and the other portico, and commands the view enjoyed by the latter. There is another bed-chamber, which is leafy and shaded by the nearest plane-tree and built of marble up to the balcony; above is a picture of a tree with birds perched in the branches equally beautiful with the marble. Here there is a small fountain with a basin around the latter, and the water runs into it from a number of small pipes, which produce a most agreeable sound. In the corner of the portico is a spacious bed-chamber leading out of the dining-room, some of its windows looking out upon the terrace, others upon the meadow, while the windows in front face the fish-pond which lies just beneath them, and is pleasant both to eye and ear, as the water falls from a considerable elevation and glistens white as it is caught in the marble basin. This bed-chamber is beautifully warm even in winter, for it is flooded with an abundance of sunshine. The heating chamber for the bath adjoins it, and on a cloudy day we turn in steam to take the place of the sun's warmth. Next comes a roomy and cheerful undressing room for the bath, from which you pass into a cool chamber containing a large and shady swimming bath. If you prefer more room or warmer water to swim in, there is a pond in the court with a well adjoining it, from which you can make the water colder when you are tired of the warm. Adjoining the cold bath is one of medium warmth, for the sun shines lavishly upon it, but not so much as upon the hot bath which is built farther out. There are three sets of steps leading to it, two exposed to the sun, and the third out of the sun though quite as light. Above the dressing-room is a ball court where various kinds of exercise can be taken, and a number of games can be played at once. Not far from the bath-room is a staircase leading to a covered passage, at the head of which are three rooms, one looking out upon the courtyard with the four plane-trees, the second upon the meadow, and the third upon the vineyards, so each therefore enjoys a different view. At the end of the passage is a bed-chamber constructed out of the passage itself, which looks out upon the riding-course, the vineyards, and the mountains. Connected with it is another bed-chamber open to the sun, and especially so in winter time. Leading out of this is an apartment which adjoins the riding-course of the villa. Such is the appearance and the use to which the front of my house is put. At the side is a raised covered gallery, which seems not so much to look out upon the vineyards as to touch them; in the middle is a dining-room which gets the invigorating breezes from the valleys of the Apennines, while at the other side, through the spacious windows and the folding doors, you seem to be close upon the vineyards again with the gallery between. On the side of the room where there are no windows is a private winding staircase by which the servants bring up the requisites for a meal. At the end of the gallery is a bed-chamber, and the gallery itself affords as pleasant a prospect from there as the vineyards. Underneath runs a sort of subterranean gallery, which in summer time remains perfectly cool, and as it has sufficient air within it, it neither admits any from without nor needs any. Next to both these galleries the portico commences where the dining-room ends, and this is cold before mid-day, and summery when the sun has reached his zenith. This gives the approach to two apartments, one of which contains four beds and the other three, and they are bathed in sunshine or steeped in shadow, according to the position of the sun. But though the arrangements of the house itself are charming, they are far and away surpassed by the riding-course. It is quite open in the centre, and the moment you enter your eye ranges over the whole of it. Around its borders are plane-trees clothed with ivy, and so while the foliage at the top belongs to the trees themselves, that on the lower parts belongs to the ivy, which creeps along the trunk and branches, and spreading across to the neighbouring trees, joins them together. Between the plane-trees are box shrubs, and on the farther side of the shrubs is a ring of laurels which mingle their shade with that of the plane-trees. At the far end, the straight boundary of the riding-course is curved into semi-circular form, which quite changes its appearance. It is enclosed and covered with cypress-trees, the deeper shade of which makes it darker and gloomier than at the sides, but the inner circles - for there are more than one - are quite open to the sunshine. Even roses grow there, and the warmth of the sun is delightful as a change from the cool of the shade. When you come to the end of these various winding alleys, the boundary again runs straight, or should I say boundaries, for there are a number of paths with box shrubs between them. In places there are grass plots intervening, in others box shrubs, which are trimmed to a great variety of patterns, some of them being cut into letters forming my name as owner and that of the gardener. Here and there are small pyramids and apple-trees, and now and then in the midst of all this graceful artificial work you suddenly come upon what looks like a real bit of the country planted there. The intervening space is beautified on both sides with dwarf plane-trees; beyond these is the acanthus-tree that is supple and flexible to the hand, and there are more boxwood figures and names. At the upper end is a couch of white marble covered with a vine, the latter being supported by four small pillars of Carystian marble. Jets of water flow from the couch through small pipes and look as if they were forced out by the weight of persons reclining thereon, and the water is caught in a stone cistern and then retained in a graceful marble basin, regulated by pipes out of sight, so that the basin, while always full, never overflows. The heavier dishes and plates are placed at the side of the basin when I dine there, but the lighter ones, formed into the shapes of little boats and birds, float on the surface and travel round and round. Facing this is a fountain which receives back the water it expels, for the water is thrown up to a considerable height and then falls down again, and the pipes that perform the two processes are connected. Directly opposite the couch is a bed-chamber, and each lends a grace to the other. It is formed of glistening marble, and through the projecting folding doors you pass at once among the foliage, while both from the upper and lower windows you look out upon the same green picture. Within is a little cabinet which seems to belong at once to the same and yet another bed-chamber. This contains a bed and it has windows on every side, yet the shade is so thick outside that very little light enters, for a wonderfully luxuriant vine has climbed up to the roof and covers the whole building. You can fancy you are in a grove as you lie there, only that you do not feel the rain as you do among trees. Here too a fountain rises and immediately loses itself underground. There are a number of marble chairs placed up and down, which are as restful for persons tired with walking as the bed-chamber itself. Near these chairs are little fountains, and throughout the whole riding-course you hear the murmur of tiny streams carried through pipes, which run wherever you please to direct them. These are used to water the shrubs, sometimes in one part, sometimes in another, and at other times all are watered together. I should long since have been afraid of boring you, had I not set out in this letter to take you with me round every corner of my estate. For I am not at all apprehensive that you will find it tedious to read about a place which certainly would not tire you to look at, especially as you can get a little rest whenever you desire, and can sit down, so to speak, by laying down the letter. Moreover, I have been indulging my affection for the place, for I am greatly attached to anything that is mainly the work of my own hands or that someone else has begun and I have taken up. In short - for there is no reason is there? why I should not be frank with you, whether my judgments are sound or unsound - I consider that it is the first duty of a writer to select the title of his work and constantly ask himself what he has begun to write about. He may be sure that so long as he keeps to his subject-matter he will not be tedious, but that he will bore his readers to distraction if he starts dragging in extraneous matter to make weight. Observe the length with which Homer describes the arms of Achilles, and Virgil the arms of Aeneas - yet in both cases the description seems short, because the author only carries out what he intended to. Observe how Aratus hunts up and brings together even the tiniest stars - yet he does not exceed due limits. For his description is not an excursus, but the end and aim of the whole work. It is the same with myself, if I may compare my lowly efforts with their great ones. I have been trying to give you a bird's eye view of the whole of my villa, and if I have introduced no extraneous matter and have never wandered off my subject, it is not the letter containing the description which is to be considered of excessive size, but rather the villa which has been described. However, let me get back to the point I started from, lest I give you an opportunity of justly condemning me by my own law, by not pursuing this digression any farther. I have explained to you why I prefer my Tuscan house to my other places at Tusculum, Tibur and Praeneste. For in addition to all the beauties I have described above, my repose here is more profound and more comfortable, and therefore all the freer from anxiety. There is no necessity to don the toga, no neighbour ever calls to drag me out; everything is placid and quiet; and this peace adds to the healthiness of the place, by giving it, so to speak, a purer sky and a more liquid air. I enjoy better health both in mind and body here than anywhere else, for I exercise the former by study and the latter by hunting. Besides, there is no place where my household keep in better trim, and up to the present I have not lost a single one of all whom I brought with me. I hope Heaven will forgive the boast, and that the gods will continue my happiness to me and preserve this place in all its beauty. Farewell. |
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18. Pliny The Younger, Letters, 5.6, 5.6.43-5.6.44 (2nd cent. CE - 2nd cent. CE)
| 5.6. To Domitius Apollinaris. I was charmed with the kind consideration which led you, when you heard that I was about to visit my Tuscan villa in the summer, to advise me not to do so during the season when you consider the district unhealthy. Undoubtedly, the region along the Tuscan coast is trying and dangerous to the health, but my property lies well back from the sea; indeed, it is just under the Apennines, which are the healthiest of our mountain ranges. However, that you may not have the slightest anxiety on my account, let me tell you all about the climatic conditions, the lie of the land, and the charms of my villa. It will be as pleasant reading for you as it is pleasant writing for me. In winter the air is cold and frosty The contour of the district is most beautiful. Picture to yourself an immense amphitheatre, such as only Nature can create, with a wide-spreading plain ringed with hills, and the summits of the hills themselves covered with tall and ancient forests. There is plentiful and varied hunting to be had. Down the mountain slopes there are stretches of timber woods, and among these are rich, deep-soiled hillocks - where if you look for a stone you will have hard work to find one - which are just as fertile as the most level plains, and ripen just as rich harvests, though later in the season. Below these, along the whole hillsides, stretch the vineyards which present an unbroken line far and wide, on the borders and lowest level of which comes a fringe of trees. Then you reach the meadows and the fields - fields which only the most powerful oxen and the stoutest ploughs can turn. The soil is so tough and composed of such thick clods that when it is first broken up it has to be furrowed nine times before it is subdued. The meadows are jewelled with flowers, and produce trefoil and other herbs, always tender and soft, and looking as though they were always fresh. For all parts are well nourished by never-failing streams, and even where there is most water there are no swamps, for the slope of the land drains off into the Tiber all the moisture that it receives and cannot itself absorb. The Tiber runs through the middle of the plain; it is navigable for ships, and all the grain is carried downstream to the city, at least in winter and spring. In summer the volume of water dwindles away, leaving but the name of a great river to the dried-up bed, but in the autumn it recovers its flood. You would be delighted if you could obtain a view of the district from the mountain height, for you would think you were looking not so much at earth and fields as at a beautiful landscape picture of wonderful loveliness. Such is the variety, such the arrangement of the scene, that wherever the eyes fall they are sure to be refreshed. My villa, though it lies at the foot of the hill, enjoys as fine a prospect as though it stood on the summit; the ascent is so gentle and easy, and the gradient so unnoticeable, that you find yourself at the top without feeling that you are ascending. The Apennines lie behind it, but at a considerable distance, and even on a cloudless and still day it gets a breeze from this range, never boisterous and rough, for its strength is broken and lost in the distance it has to travel. Most of the house faces south; in summer it gets the sun from the sixth hour, and in winter considerably earlier, inviting it as it were into the portico, which is broad and long to correspond, and contains a number of apartments and an old-fashioned hall. In front, there is a terrace laid out in different patterns and bounded with an edging of box; then comes a sloping ridge with figures of animals on both sides cut out of the box-trees, while on the level ground stands an acanthus-tree, with leaves so soft that I might almost call them liquid. Round this is a walk bordered by evergreens pressed and trimmed into various shapes; then comes an exercise ground, round like a circus, which surrounds the box-trees that are cut into different forms, and the dwarf shrubs that are kept clipped. Everything is protected by an enclosure, which is hidden and withdrawn from sight by the tiers of box-trees. Beyond is a meadow, as well worth seeing for its natural charm as the features just described are for their artificial beauty, and beyond that there stretches an expanse of fields and a number of other meadows and thickets. At the head of the portico there runs out the dining-room, from the doors of which can be seen the end of the terrace with the meadow and a good expanse of country beyond it, while from the windows the view on the one hand commands one side of the terrace and the part of the villa which juts out, and on the other the grove and foliage of the adjoining riding-school. Almost opposite to the middle of the portico is a summer-house standing back a little, with a small open space in the middle shaded by four plane-trees. Among them is a marble fountain, from which the water plays upon and lightly sprinkles the roots of the plane-trees and the grass plot beneath them. In this summer-house there is a bed-chamber which excludes all light, noise, and sound, and adjoining it is a dining-room for my friends, which faces upon the small court and the other portico, and commands the view enjoyed by the latter. There is another bed-chamber, which is leafy and shaded by the nearest plane-tree and built of marble up to the balcony; above is a picture of a tree with birds perched in the branches equally beautiful with the marble. Here there is a small fountain with a basin around the latter, and the water runs into it from a number of small pipes, which produce a most agreeable sound. In the corner of the portico is a spacious bed-chamber leading out of the dining-room, some of its windows looking out upon the terrace, others upon the meadow, while the windows in front face the fish-pond which lies just beneath them, and is pleasant both to eye and ear, as the water falls from a considerable elevation and glistens white as it is caught in the marble basin. This bed-chamber is beautifully warm even in winter, for it is flooded with an abundance of sunshine. The heating chamber for the bath adjoins it, and on a cloudy day we turn in steam to take the place of the sun's warmth. Next comes a roomy and cheerful undressing room for the bath, from which you pass into a cool chamber containing a large and shady swimming bath. If you prefer more room or warmer water to swim in, there is a pond in the court with a well adjoining it, from which you can make the water colder when you are tired of the warm. Adjoining the cold bath is one of medium warmth, for the sun shines lavishly upon it, but not so much as upon the hot bath which is built farther out. There are three sets of steps leading to it, two exposed to the sun, and the third out of the sun though quite as light. Above the dressing-room is a ball court where various kinds of exercise can be taken, and a number of games can be played at once. Not far from the bath-room is a staircase leading to a covered passage, at the head of which are three rooms, one looking out upon the courtyard with the four plane-trees, the second upon the meadow, and the third upon the vineyards, so each therefore enjoys a different view. At the end of the passage is a bed-chamber constructed out of the passage itself, which looks out upon the riding-course, the vineyards, and the mountains. Connected with it is another bed-chamber open to the sun, and especially so in winter time. Leading out of this is an apartment which adjoins the riding-course of the villa. Such is the appearance and the use to which the front of my house is put. At the side is a raised covered gallery, which seems not so much to look out upon the vineyards as to touch them; in the middle is a dining-room which gets the invigorating breezes from the valleys of the Apennines, while at the other side, through the spacious windows and the folding doors, you seem to be close upon the vineyards again with the gallery between. On the side of the room where there are no windows is a private winding staircase by which the servants bring up the requisites for a meal. At the end of the gallery is a bed-chamber, and the gallery itself affords as pleasant a prospect from there as the vineyards. Underneath runs a sort of subterranean gallery, which in summer time remains perfectly cool, and as it has sufficient air within it, it neither admits any from without nor needs any. Next to both these galleries the portico commences where the dining-room ends, and this is cold before mid-day, and summery when the sun has reached his zenith. This gives the approach to two apartments, one of which contains four beds and the other three, and they are bathed in sunshine or steeped in shadow, according to the position of the sun. But though the arrangements of the house itself are charming, they are far and away surpassed by the riding-course. It is quite open in the centre, and the moment you enter your eye ranges over the whole of it. Around its borders are plane-trees clothed with ivy, and so while the foliage at the top belongs to the trees themselves, that on the lower parts belongs to the ivy, which creeps along the trunk and branches, and spreading across to the neighbouring trees, joins them together. Between the plane-trees are box shrubs, and on the farther side of the shrubs is a ring of laurels which mingle their shade with that of the plane-trees. At the far end, the straight boundary of the riding-course is curved into semi-circular form, which quite changes its appearance. It is enclosed and covered with cypress-trees, the deeper shade of which makes it darker and gloomier than at the sides, but the inner circles - for there are more than one - are quite open to the sunshine. Even roses grow there, and the warmth of the sun is delightful as a change from the cool of the shade. When you come to the end of these various winding alleys, the boundary again runs straight, or should I say boundaries, for there are a number of paths with box shrubs between them. In places there are grass plots intervening, in others box shrubs, which are trimmed to a great variety of patterns, some of them being cut into letters forming my name as owner and that of the gardener. Here and there are small pyramids and apple-trees, and now and then in the midst of all this graceful artificial work you suddenly come upon what looks like a real bit of the country planted there. The intervening space is beautified on both sides with dwarf plane-trees; beyond these is the acanthus-tree that is supple and flexible to the hand, and there are more boxwood figures and names. At the upper end is a couch of white marble covered with a vine, the latter being supported by four small pillars of Carystian marble. Jets of water flow from the couch through small pipes and look as if they were forced out by the weight of persons reclining thereon, and the water is caught in a stone cistern and then retained in a graceful marble basin, regulated by pipes out of sight, so that the basin, while always full, never overflows. The heavier dishes and plates are placed at the side of the basin when I dine there, but the lighter ones, formed into the shapes of little boats and birds, float on the surface and travel round and round. Facing this is a fountain which receives back the water it expels, for the water is thrown up to a considerable height and then falls down again, and the pipes that perform the two processes are connected. Directly opposite the couch is a bed-chamber, and each lends a grace to the other. It is formed of glistening marble, and through the projecting folding doors you pass at once among the foliage, while both from the upper and lower windows you look out upon the same green picture. Within is a little cabinet which seems to belong at once to the same and yet another bed-chamber. This contains a bed and it has windows on every side, yet the shade is so thick outside that very little light enters, for a wonderfully luxuriant vine has climbed up to the roof and covers the whole building. You can fancy you are in a grove as you lie there, only that you do not feel the rain as you do among trees. Here too a fountain rises and immediately loses itself underground. There are a number of marble chairs placed up and down, which are as restful for persons tired with walking as the bed-chamber itself. Near these chairs are little fountains, and throughout the whole riding-course you hear the murmur of tiny streams carried through pipes, which run wherever you please to direct them. These are used to water the shrubs, sometimes in one part, sometimes in another, and at other times all are watered together. I should long since have been afraid of boring you, had I not set out in this letter to take you with me round every corner of my estate. For I am not at all apprehensive that you will find it tedious to read about a place which certainly would not tire you to look at, especially as you can get a little rest whenever you desire, and can sit down, so to speak, by laying down the letter. Moreover, I have been indulging my affection for the place, for I am greatly attached to anything that is mainly the work of my own hands or that someone else has begun and I have taken up. In short - for there is no reason is there? why I should not be frank with you, whether my judgments are sound or unsound - I consider that it is the first duty of a writer to select the title of his work and constantly ask himself what he has begun to write about. He may be sure that so long as he keeps to his subject-matter he will not be tedious, but that he will bore his readers to distraction if he starts dragging in extraneous matter to make weight. Observe the length with which Homer describes the arms of Achilles, and Virgil the arms of Aeneas - yet in both cases the description seems short, because the author only carries out what he intended to. Observe how Aratus hunts up and brings together even the tiniest stars - yet he does not exceed due limits. For his description is not an excursus, but the end and aim of the whole work. It is the same with myself, if I may compare my lowly efforts with their great ones. I have been trying to give you a bird's eye view of the whole of my villa, and if I have introduced no extraneous matter and have never wandered off my subject, it is not the letter containing the description which is to be considered of excessive size, but rather the villa which has been described. However, let me get back to the point I started from, lest I give you an opportunity of justly condemning me by my own law, by not pursuing this digression any farther. I have explained to you why I prefer my Tuscan house to my other places at Tusculum, Tibur and Praeneste. For in addition to all the beauties I have described above, my repose here is more profound and more comfortable, and therefore all the freer from anxiety. There is no necessity to don the toga, no neighbour ever calls to drag me out; everything is placid and quiet; and this peace adds to the healthiness of the place, by giving it, so to speak, a purer sky and a more liquid air. I enjoy better health both in mind and body here than anywhere else, for I exercise the former by study and the latter by hunting. Besides, there is no place where my household keep in better trim, and up to the present I have not lost a single one of all whom I brought with me. I hope Heaven will forgive the boast, and that the gods will continue my happiness to me and preserve this place in all its beauty. Farewell. |
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19. Prudentius, On The Crown of Martyrdom, 9 (4th cent. CE - 5th cent. CE)
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